Life Belongs to the Living
by ICanStopAnytime
Summary: Matt continues to seek Coach Taylor's approval as Eric and Tami struggle to strengthen their marriage.
1. Chapter 1

** **Author's Note:** You can find my books online at Amazon. I write under the penname MOLLY TAGGART. Current titles include _Roots that Clutch_ (novel), _Off Target_ (novel), _Out of Rhythm_ (novella), and _The Caterer's Husband_ (novella). I hope you will try one! The Kindle version of _Roots that Clutch_ will be on sale for just 99 cent 12/1/2013-12/8/2013!**

Chapter One

"Life belongs to the living, and he who lives**  
><strong>must be prepared for changes."**  
><strong>_- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_

Eric Taylor had just walked into the house when he stopped to give his daughter a kiss, but she was too absorbed in what she was watching to respond. "I'm glad you're still not too old for Dora," he said. "You're probably going to ditch Dora and your daddy when you go to Kindergarten next year." She hadn't quite made the cut-off this year, but he had not minded waiting to send her. Even if she was ready, he wasn't. Receiving no response now, he said, "Hey, Gracie Belle, give your daddy a hug."

She turned to him with one arm extended, palm up, and yelled, "Swiper, no swiping!"

He stepped back with his hands raised defensively in front of him. "A'right then. That's just a jewel in the crown of my day I guess."

Tami had come from the kitchen and was standing behind the couch. "Bad day? How did practice go?"

"I was five minutes late. The class I'm T. - I didn't factor into my planning the fact that students would stay late to ask questions."

Eric had begun a master's program in Sports Medicine that fall and was lowering his tuition by working as a T.A. for undergraduate classes. He had quit his high school teaching job in August but was still being kept on as the head coach of the Pioneers. It had been awkward not being around those kids all day long and then trying to connect with them at practice, but the team was doing about as well as could be expected. That is, about as well as Eric expected – they were doing better than the school itself had anticipated.

"And then traffic was heavier than I thought," he continued.

"Well, five minutes isn't that late."

"It is when you tell your players fifteen minutes early is on time."

"There is that. Come on, hon. Dinner's on the table. I already let Gracie eat. She was getting hungry."

Eric pointed to the TV before he followed Tami to the kitchen. "What's she need in that backpack, Gracie? What's she need to get across the bridge fast?"

"Rollerskates!" Gracie yelled.

"That's a damn big back pack," he muttered when he was out of his daughter's ear shot.

He sat down and sighed, long and hard. Tami put a plate in front of him. He waited for her to sit down across from him, asked how her day was, and began eating.

When she was done telling him, she asked, "What's bothering you, hon?"

"I'm just trying to figure out how to juggle everything. I miss you guys."

"I miss you too, babe. It hasn't been easy on me either. At least you don't have class tonight."

"And at least it's only for two years." Not, he imagined, that it would be easier when he began his new career, not if he continued coaching as well. In fact, that would be harder. How did a man pull off am 8-5 job and still coach? A man didn't, he supposed. Most high school coaches were also high school teachers, or they were retired from their past careers, didn't need a full-time salary, and now did nothing but coach. If he couldn't find a flexible job in the field of sports medicine, he would have to choose between giving up coaching or returning to teaching P.E. at Pemberton High. If he did the latter, at least the master's would mean a slight bump in salary, but it otherwise would have been a waste. And he didn't want this knowledge to go to waste.

He had barely started his program, but he already liked what he was learning. He enjoyed not only the subjects themselves, but his interactions with the professors and his fellow students. There had been one classmate, in particular, who had engaged him in some interesting conversations. Those conversations had gone well beyond sports medicine, however, which probably wouldn't have given him a second thought if that classmate hadn't also happened to have been female, and good-looking, and, for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, clearly attracted to him.

"What else is wrong, Eric?"

He didn't realize he had stopped eating and was starring at his plate until she spoke. He leaned forward and picked up his fork. "We'll talk tonight when Gracie is in bed. It's nothing serious. I think we just need to talk." When she looked at him with _what-the-hell?_ eyes, he looked away and said, "This is good lasagna. Thanks, hon. I love your lasagna."

"Actually, it's Stouffer's lasagna, but, since you can't tell the difference, at least I know not to bother making my own in the future."

Eric swallowed. "Well, but…the presentation is beautiful."

She laughed, but he couldn't quite tell if she was amused, worried, or just a little pissed off. He knew he was going to have to get this weight off his mind, but he was not looking forward to their evening conversation.

After Grace was asleep, Tami and Eric settled down on the couch, each with a glass of wine.

"I've got to get the guest bedroom ready tomorrow," Tami said.

Eric raised his eyebrows. "Tell me Buddy Garrity did not take me up on that spontaneous, poorly-thought-out offer to visit anytime."

"No, no. You'll like these guests. Matt and Julie and the baby are coming on Friday. They're staying for two weeks."

They hadn't seen their grandson since shortly after he had been born. Matt and Julie had told the Taylors they weren't needed for more than a short visit. The young couple had wanted to settle into routines and work out things on their own. The pregnancy had been unplanned, to say the least, and Matt and Julie now seemed determined to prove they could handle their roles as parents.

Tami had devoured the pictures and the videos Julie had e-mailed her over the past several months and was looking forward to their visit. Henry Eric would be over six months old by now. Matt and Julie had named him after their respective fathers, and Julie had commented that when Henry was older, H.E. Saracen would look great as an author's byline on his first novel. "Or on an NFL team roster," Coach Taylor had replied, "right after where it says quarterback."

"Two weeks?" Eric now asked. "He can get that much time off from the gallery?"

"Actually, he's working. He has a show here in Philadelphia one weekend and another in New York the next weekend, so, they're going to stay here as a base. And his gallery wants him to scout out art while he's in both cities, so, they're still paying him too."

Eric took a sip of his wine and nodded.

"I've never seen one of his art shows, and I want to go to the one here," she continued. "You mind staying home with Grace and Henry Saturday evening so Julie and I can go?"

"When Saturday? You know I've got a class Saturday afternoon."

"We don't have to leave until after you're home."

"I can do that. I'd like some time with my little girl and my grandson."

Tami now shifted positions so that she was sitting sideways and looking directly at her husband. "So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

As soon as Tami asked, Eric looked away. He rubbed his chin. He was looking nervous and…she had seen this look before but couldn't imagine a reason for it now…guilty. She didn't like it. She didn't like it at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"You know…" Eric began, clearly avoiding Tami's eyes, "you know how when I started grad school you told me to watch out because some of my fellow female students might flirt with me, and - "

"- you laughed it off because they'd be nearly half your age and you never thought it would happen?"

"And you told me not to laugh, that I was a damn good-looking man, and that some women like older men, and –

"- your maturity and confidence would be sexy to them –

"- and I said, nah, that would never happen?"

"It happened?" Tami asked.

"Yeah."

"A fellow graduate student? Not some college kid you're teaching?"

"Hell, no. You know I'd run far and fast if that happened."

She laughed, recalling a story her friend Glenn had told her, of a time when a high school girl had tried to flirt with Coach Taylor in the halls of Dillon High to piss off her boyfriend, and he had almost literally run down the hall the other way, terrified of saying or doing anything that could be deemed the least bit inappropriate. "I know." But then her smile faded. "So…you're saying you _didn't_ run far and fast when this fellow graduate student flirted with you?"

He ran a finger up and down the stem of his wine glass. She didn't like that he was still avoiding eye contact. She felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. "Eric?"

"I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't at all prepared for this. You know, I've been flirted with by women my age before, or older. But they knew I was married, knew I loved my wife, half the time I didn't think they meant a damn thing by it, and it always made me uncomfortable anyway. But…"

He glanced at her like he was expecting her to say something, finish his thought for him so he wouldn't have to. When she didn't say anything, he continued, "…this is the first time I've been flirted with by a young woman who is not under my authority, who shares something with me that you don't – interest in the subjects I'm studying – who can appreciate my knowledge in that area, and - "

" - It was flattering."

"Yeah. I guess it was." He lifted his eyes slightly, just enough to see her face. "After my evening class last night, we went out for drinks."

"What?" She spit the question out, tersely, a sound that was mixed with anger, accusation, and fear. If he had come back later than usual, she hadn't known it. He usually got home from his Tuesday class by 10, but exhausted from a long day, she had crawled into bed shortly after putting Grace down.

"Not alone. Not just us. I mean a whole group of students - we _all_ went out for drinks together."

A wave of relief washed over Tami, but it was not enough to drown the turmoil she was still feeling.

"And that's when she kind of flirted with me. Well, she'd done it before after class a couple of times. But that's when …that's when I really flirted back. And I just want to say I'm sorry. And it won't happen again."

"When you say you flirted, what do you mean by that?"

"You know, I smiled and joked and tried to make her laugh, and…she patted my knee once…and I didn't try to put her off."

"And?"

"And…that's all. That's all that happened."

"Damn it, Eric!"

"I'm sorry, Tami. I swear, I won't go out for drinks again if she's in the group. I swear – "

"No! I mean damn it for starting to talk to me with this hang dog guilty look of yours, and then explaining it all so gradually. You had me thinking it was something really serious, like maybe you had made out with her, like maybe even you were having an affair – and that's it? You almost gave me a heart attack, Eric. Damn it!"

"Sorry, hon." He looked her directly in the eyes for the first time since he had begun speaking about the subject. His voice was hesitant, unsure. "So you're not mad at me?"

"Mad? For being a male of the human species? No, I'm not mad." She tried to sound less emotional than she actually was. She didn't fault him for letting himself be flattered, but she also didn't think that he would have bothered to come to her if that was all this was about. And it was occurring to her for probably the first time in their marriage that, given the right circumstances, her husband might actually be capable of straying. As calmly as she could, she proceeded, "But I suppose you're only telling me this because you feel a real temptation here. And you're thinking maybe you have a real opportunity to act on that temptation."

"I guess."

She stared into the wine in her glass and watched the lightly rippling red liquid. A small piece of sediment had floated unnoticed on its surface and become lodged near the edge.

"Tami, please…Don't say I'm going through a midlife crisis."

"I'm not." Even if he was. The term may have become a societal joke, but that didn't mean there wasn't a real, near universal experience behind it. That didn't mean Eric – reeling in the wake of all these recent life changes - wasn't grasping for something to fill some hole she couldn't seem to help him fill, no matter how hard she tried. She'd been able to make him feel good about himself for so long that she'd come to take that power for granted. But maybe this time it was just beyond her. Maybe she couldn't do anything but sit beside him and weather the tempest with him until it passed. "I'm just glad you talked to me about this," she continued, "because that means you're giving us a chance before something more happens here." She used her reassuring counselor's tone, but inside she was a tightly wound ball, still surprised and injured by the thought he might be seriously tempted.

"I'll just…I'll just avoid her."

"If you're in classes together, and she's interested in you, and that ring on your finger hasn't stopped her from coming on to you, then you can't just avoid her completely."

Eric had put his wine glass down and was bent over. He now ran a hand through his moppish brown hair and sighed. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"This should be a conversation, Eric. It shouldn't just be me telling you what to do." She put her wine down too, with a glassy clank against the table. "You know, the way you just came and told me what to do when you saw Glenn and I laughing in my office back in Dillon." It was a cheap shot, she knew. She had thrown it in to remind him that men were attracted to her, too, that he wasn't the only object of romantic interest, that he, too, had to be on his guard to keep her. It was an attempt to level the suddenly distorted power balance, to reassure herself.

"Yeah, you weren't too receptive to that. But you know what, Tami? I on the other hand am very receptive to what you want me to do in this situation."

"Well of course I wasn't receptive! You were yelling at me about Glenn, telling me I was disrespecting you, disrespecting our family, disrespecting God – "

"I did _not_ say God. I - "

"- and it's easier for you to be receptive in this situation, because I'm not yelling at you! I'm not barking orders at – "

"Actually, Tami, you are yelling at me! Right now you're yelling at me and – "

" - but I wasn't yelling at you a minute ago! And I'm only yelling at you now because –"

She stopped abruptly when he started laughing. She smiled tersely. "It was getting a little ridiculous there for a minute, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah. Let's not fight about something that happened back in Dillon. Let's talk about what's going on right now. I'm serious. What do you want me to do?"

"First off, I want you to pour me another glass of wine."

He picked up the bottle and topped off her glass. She lifted it from the table and sipped it quietly for awhile. He watched her sip and waited for her to say something. Finally, he picked up his own glass and began drinking. At last, she spoke. "Don't go out for drinks after class if she's in the group."

"I already said I wouldn't do that."

"Just come home to your family."

"A'right."

"If she flirts with you before or after class, work it into the conversation that you're married."

"She knows I'm married."

"Emphasize it. She knows you're married, but she doesn't necessarily know you know you're married, if you know what I mean."

Eric nodded.

"Better yet, work into the conversation that you're a grandfather. Mention Henry three or four times."

He looked at her sharply. _Yeah_, she thought, _that ought to do it._ He didn't seem to like that suggestion. He was too flattered by this young woman's attentions to want to do that. "I'm serious," she said.

"I can see that."

"How old is this woman?"

"I don't know…26, 27 maybe. I didn't ask. She said she'd been out of college a few years before she started back for her master's."

"What's her name?"

"That doesn't matter. That's not important."

"What's her name?" Tami asked the question more firmly this time.

"I told you, it's not – "

"_What_ _is_ _her_ _name_?"

"Bambi! Okay, it's Bambi."

"_**Bambi?**_"

He laughed sharply. "No. No, hon it's not Bambi." Talking through his laughter, he said, "You should see your face right now."

"Eric, I'm about to smack you."

"Okay. Okay. I'll tell you. It's Shawanda."

She did smack him, only half playfully and with more force than she had meant to, on his shoulder. He spilled his wine.

"Shit," she muttered, and got up quickly and went to the hall closet. She yanked open the door and pulled out a can of carpet spray and a wash cloth. When she returned, she sprayed the carpet, got down all fours, and began scrubbing.

He kneeled next to her. "I'll get it, Tami."

She kept rubbing the carpet.

"Stop! I'll get it."

She ignored him and started rubbing harder.

"I said I'd get it!"

She scrubbed fiercely, gripping the washcloth on either side and pushing it deep into the carpet, the white cloth growing red. And then she started crying.

He took the washcloth from her hands and took her in his arms. Kneeling beside her, he cradled her head beneath his chin and waited for her crying to stop.

"I'm sorry, babe," he said through clenched teeth. "I didn't do anything. And I'm not going to do anything. I swear. I'm sorry I told you. I would never do anything, so I never should have told you. It was stupid of me to tell you. I'm an idiot."

"No," she muttered, resting her head against his chest. "It would have been stupid of you _not_ to tell me. Because then you might have let it…now that you've told me, I know for sure you won't. I'm just…I'm just…I just feel old and ugly right now."

He tilted her face up to his and kissed away the last of her tears. "I love you," he murmured. He kissed her eyelids and her forehead and her cheeks. "I love you, Tami, my beautiful wife."

Eric raised Tami up onto the couch and pulled her against him. "I am so lucky to have you," he whispered. "I am so lucky to have this kind of marriage where we don't let things get away from us. Where we can really talk to each other." He looked into her eyes, a glistening wetness at the edges of his own. "I want to grow old with you, Tami Taylor. Promise me you'll let me grow old with you."

Her response was barely audible, a guttural, half yes, drowned out by the reassuring pressure of his lips on hers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Tami emerged from the back hallway into the living room. "Zip me up," she ordered more than requested. Eric put down the book he had been reading aloud to Grace and his grandson and stood up. Henry, who had been leaning against his side, fell over sideways on the couch and giggled. Grace patted his head and laughed. Eric fumbled with the zipper on the back of Tami's dark green dress and finally managed to pull it up all the way, but the clasp at the top was a particular challenge. "What's taking you so long back there?" she snapped.

"Hold your horses," he muttered. "Got it."

Without a thank you she pulled away from him and walked swiftly back down the hallway to her room.

"You look beautiful," he called after her. He turned to Julie, who was sitting and reading in an arm chair next to the sofa, already dressed and waiting for Matt and her mom. "Any idea why your mama's so irritable right now?"

"Mom and I had a fight this afternoon," Julie explained. "And now she has to pretend she's not mad and that we're one nice happy family when we go to Matt's art show, so she's stomping around to get it all out before we go."

"Yeah?" Eric asked, lifting Henry back up into a sitting position and squeezing in between the two kids. Grace now had the book in her hands and was looking through the pages herself, "reading" them aloud to Henry, in so much as she had memorized the text. Eric spoke over her as she read. "What did you two fight about?"

"About how she thinks now that I have my Associate's degree I should transfer back to a four-year college and get my B.A., and how I think I should just stay home with Henry and work part-time as a virtual assistant for a few years." She snapped shut the cover of the book she had been reading. "What do you think, Dad?" It was clear by the way she asked the question that she was not actually soliciting his advice but rather intimating what a punishment it was to her that others should think they should have any say in her decisions.

"I'm sure your mom's just concerned that you have something to fall back on and that you put that brain of yours to good use."

"Have something to fall back on," Julie repeated, nodding her head in that angry way of hers. "In case Matt leaves me, you mean?"

"I didn't say that." He shifted Grace, who had crawled up into his lap to better show pictures to her nephew, so that he could see Julie. "He could die."

"Oh, pleasant, Dad, thanks. And being a mother to my son isn't a good use of my brain?"

Eric now scooted over to the end of the couch to be closer to Julie's chair. In so doing, he slid Grace off his lap and plopped her down next to Henry. "I didn't say that either." He leaned forward and took the thick book out of Julie's hands and pointed to the title. "You wanna tell me a girl who reads _The Brothers Karamazov_ for pleasure is going to get all the intellectual fulfillment she could possibly need out of a six-month-old?"

Julie snatched her book back. "I have Matt to talk to. I'm doing some part-time work. It's not braincracking work, but it's something to do. It's just really important for me to be there for Henry for a few years."

"A'right, I understand." He settled against the couch and draped an arm over the back. "I don't think there's anything wrong with that. Your mother stayed home with you for years after you were born and didn't work at all."

"That's what I reminded her."

"I had my B.A. already!" called Tami as she passed behind the sofa and into the kitchen.

Julie rolled her eyes. Eric leaned forward and whispered, "Go easy on your mom. She worries about you because she loves you so much."

Julie shrugged noncommittally and then redoubled her self-defense: "Another benefit of staying home is that it gives me time to work on my novel."

"_Brothers Karamazov_ is pretty damn thick, but I don't think it's going to take you that long to read."

"No, Dad! I mean _my_ novel. The novel I'm writing."

"You're writing a novel? What's it about?"

"A washed up college football player who becomes a high school football coach and then nags his daughter about going easy on her meddling mother."

"So what you're telling me is that your protagonist is both handsome and intelligent?"

Julie smirked. Meanwhile Matt, nicely dressed in a suit and tie, appeared behind her arm chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sure you want to come?" he asked. "I know you're tired from getting up with Henry last night."

"I don't want to miss your show," she said. "Besides, I wouldn't want to deprive my dad of the chance to change diapers tonight."

Coach Taylor laughed sarcastically in her direction.

"I don't know why Henry can't seem to sleep," Julie said. "I thought they were supposed to be sleeping through the night by five months old."

"Well, you didn't until you were two years old," Eric said, kissing her on the head as he stood up from the couch.

"What are you even talking about?" Tami asked, emerging from the kitchen. "That is _not_ true."

"Is too!" the Coach shot back. He pointed to Henry. "Stay right there, little man. I've got something for you."

"Where would he be going?" Matt asked, picking up his son, who looked like he was about to roll off the couch, and lying him on his back on the floor. Henry promptly rolled over onto his stomach, propped himself up on his arms, and looked around at everyone with his big, light blue eyes.

"Look, Julie, sweetie," Tami said. "I'm sorry. I overheard what you said to your dad, and I'm sorry if I upset you. I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy, mom. And I will get my B.A. eventually. Just not now."

Tami nodded. "If that's the order you want to do it in, Julie babe, that's fine."

"Found it finally!" came Eric's voice from the hallway. He came back into the living room holding a dark blue Nerf football. "Here you go, QB." He got down on the floor by his grandson.

"He's a little young to do much of anything with a football, don't you think?" Matt asked.

Henry took the football from Coach Taylor's outstretched hands. He made a noise that sounded something like "Yaaaah…buuuuuuuu" and then promptly drooled on its upturned tip.

Eric lay down next to him, his head propped up on one arm. "He can chew on it real good, though," he said. "Yep, that's my boy. Sink those gums in. Dig that one tooth in there. Get a taste for it. Get a taste for the game."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Eric set his suitcase in the hallway. He usually liked to travel light, but it was stuffed with text books; he needed to get some studying done while he was in New York. "Who's taking us to the train station?" he asked as he walked back through the living room and into the kitchen, where Julie sat at the bar, holding her son on her lap. Henry clearly wasn't interested in being confined and kept reaching for the floor.

Matt came out of the guest bedroom holding a backpack and a duffle bag, which he put next to Eric's suitcase in the hallway. He had already FedExed his art work to New York three days ago. Julie hadn't wanted to go to the New York show. She was exhausted. She had talked her father into going with Matt instead, so that Matt would have someone for moral support. Eric had hemmed and hawed about it at first. "Dad," she had said to him. "I think it would be good for you and Matt to go together. You know, he really wants you to like him."

"I do like him, Julie. What makes him think I don't like him? Of course I like him."

"I know. He knows…but, I mean…he doesn't think you respect what he _does_. Just go to one of his shows. See him in his element, Dad. Will you do this for me?"

Eric didn't even have the excuse of grad school, as his professor had cancelled his usual Saturday class due to illness. So he had consented.

Matt now walked back from the front door, stopping off to pat Gracie on the head while she lay on the living room floor playing with her Barbies. He sat down next to Julie at the bar, thanked his mother-in-law for the coffee cup she handed him, and began sipping. Meanwhile Eric stood next to him and began sorting through the mail Tami had left on the bar.

"So, Dad," Julie asked with a teasing smile, "Are there any pretty young co-eds in your classes?"

Eric glanced up nervously at Tami. "I wouldn't know," he said. He started ripping open an envelope. "If there were any pretty young co-eds, I wouldn't even notice because I am married to the most beautiful woman in the entire world."

Tami rolled her eyes but did smile slightly. Matt laughed abruptly and Julie turned to him, saying, "Don't laugh. You could take some pointers from my dad. Learn how to talk to your wife, be a little more flattering."

"Look, Julie," Matt said, taking their son from her arms and freeing him on the floor. Henry rose up on his haunches and rocked back and forth as if he were going to launch into a crawl, but he didn't go anywhere. Instead he fell forward on his face and then tried again. "Just because I only compliment you when I'm feeling it and I'm sincere doesn't mean I'm not crazy about you."

"I'm sincere," Eric protested, tossing an envelope in the trash.

"Seriously?" Matt asked. "Seriously? The most beautiful woman in the entire world? In the whole entire world. That's what you sincerely believe?"

"Matt, Matty, listen, son, let me tell you something, when a man loves a woman, I mean when he really loves a woman, she is the most beautiful woman in the world to him, or at least he's got to make her feel that way."

Now Tami laughed. Eric smiled at her levity, relieved that the tension caused by his Wednesday night confession seemed to have largely abated. He walked around the bar, took her in his arms, and kissed her.

"Stop!" Julie said. "Stop right now! Just because I'm grown up and married and a mom doesn't make it less gross for you to do that in front of me."

Tami pushed Eric away and he went back to rummaging through the mail. "And yes," Tami said, "there are a lot of pretty co-eds in his classes, and at least half of them are flirting with him."

Julie and Matt both chuckled.

"I'm not kidding," Tami said. "I wish I were but I'm not."

Her tone was not overly solemn, but Eric peered up with one eye to see if perhaps her expression was. The partial smile on her face seemed more affectionate than bitter, and it reassured him that although she had been upset by his temptation, she was satisfied with his commitment, trusted his future behavior, and – how could he put this? – maybe even felt a little proud of the acknowledged quality of her possession. He thought at first that he had made a mistake to bring it up, instead of just handling it on his own, but Tami was right, painful as it was, addressing the issue in the open like that had been the safer course for their marriage. It had, in fact, resulted in his feeling closer to Tami and consequently pushing the young woman further from his mind. And maybe – he would never dare say this to Tami – but maybe, maybe sometimes she just took him a little bit for granted – not a lot, not all the time, not often – but sometimes, maybe, just a little bit for granted, and maybe she'd be a little less inclined to let that happen now.

While Eric was thinking all this, he didn't notice the uncomfortable look Julie shot his way, a look that said however many times she had heard her father casually called handsome, she'd never really considered him in that way – as a man who might actually be attractive to young women. She'd just been joking about the co-eds. "Seriously?" she asked doubtfully.

"Yes, seriously, Jules," her mother answered as she poured out the rest of her coffee in the sink and set down the empty cup. "But your dad's been a good boy." She walked over to Eric and kissed him on the cheek. "Come on, hon. I gotta get you two to the train station."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Matt and Eric leaned forward in their seats as the train lurched into sudden motion. Its movement soon steadied and they settled back into a more comfortable position. This weekend was the first time Matt would ever spend more than a couple of hours completely alone with his father-in-law, and he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it.

Matt drummed his fingers listlessly on his leg, looking about the half-full train. He wasn't sure if he should try to make conversation or just leave the coach in silence to read. "What are you reading?" he asked finally.

"Biography," muttered the coach, not looking up from the page.

"Like a sports biography? Football coach or something?"

"No," his father-in-law answered, marking his page by bending down the corner. "Ulysses S. Grant." He closed the cover and shifted his attention to Matt.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's a'right. It's just pleasure reading, obviously, it's got nothing to do with my master's program."

"You read biographies of Civil War generals just for the heck of it?"

"What, does that surprise you?"

"Well…yeah…kind of."

The coach tucked the book into the pocket of the seat in front of him. "Why's that now?" he asked.

"Just…just thought…you know…you'd be more interested in reading about football or something."

"Well, generals have to have a game plan too. You know I used to be a history teacher, right?"

Matt shook his head. "I didn't, actually."

"Yeah, I used to teach American History, for four years. I didn't major in it, but they needed the slot filled at a school where I was coaching."

"Aw…see…I didn't know 'cause all you ever taught in Dillon was P.E., and even then you only taught a few classes."

"Yeah, they let me get away with focusing more on the team there. But not everyone's as crazy about football as the people of Dillon. Even head coaching, if you're just coaching a high school team, it's not really a full-time job. You get an annual stipend."

"Well, you sure made it seem like a round-the-clock job. I mean, I don't know too many other jobs where you're calling your employees into a special work session at midnight, or showing up unexpectedly on their doorsteps at dinner time to give 'em a talking to about their job performance - "

"Okay, maybe I can be a little intense. But I love what I do as a coach. And I'm good at it."

Matt waived his hand. "No argument from me there."

The coach turned and stared out at the passing landscape. The trees had faded and the scene began to take on a bleak, industrial look. Apparently bored with the picture, he turned back to Matt, who, grasping for conversational straws, asked him, "So…what's your favorite period of American history?"

The coach answered, without any discernible expression, "The 1910's."

Matt's full lips parted slightly as if offering an unasked question. He wasn't sure if his father-in-law was being sarcastic. It was probably safest to bet he was. Julie had told him that sarcasm was a form of affection in her family, that what sounded to Matt like "You're an idiot" sounded to her like "I love you."

"The 1910's?" Matt asked doubtfully.

When Coach Taylor's lips curved into a subtle smile, Matt knew.

"Sure," Matt nodded, smiling. "That was a watershed time in history." He reached down and unzipped the backpack between his feet and pulled out a book. "I got something to read too. You can get back to your book."

"What is it?" Coach Taylor asked, nodding toward the book. "_Twilight_?"

Matt re-zipped the backpack with a jerk and rolled his eyes languidly. He pushed the backpack under the seat in front of him.

"I'm just kidding with you, son. Seriously, whatcha reading?"

Matt refused to answer and simply opened his book, stretching out his legs as far as he could.

"Suit yourself," his father-in-law said, grabbing his own book out of the seat pocket. He opened to the page he had marked. "Suit yourself."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

During the six-man art show, Eric walked once around the entire gallery looking at all of the artists' works, some beautiful, some shocking, most senseless. Then he circled back to look at Matt's a second time. He didn't know anything about art. He didn't know what any of them were supposed to mean. But the drawings made him feel something. Well, they weren't drawings, apparently. "Soft-ground etchings," Matt had called them. They made him feel something deeply, but he didn't know quite what it was that they had made him feel. He was impressed that something like that could stir him with such deep and indescribable emotional confusion, but he had only been able to mutter, "Looks good, son, looks good." Matt's sculptures, on the other hand, which were more popular than his etchings and had brought him thousands of dollars when they sold, Eric simply did not get. At all.

Eric hung out at the gallery awkwardly for about twenty more minutes before returning to Matt, patting him on his shoulder, congratulating him on the show, and taking off. "See you back at the hotel when you're done," Eric said. They were sharing a room because of the high cost of downtown New York hotels. "I've got to study."

It had been a great relief to get back to the room and away from all those chattering, pretentious people, asking him how he knew Matt, what he did for a living, who his favorite artists were. He pulled out his books and began reading. When he couldn't stand studying anymore, he called Tami, who upbraided him for not staying at the show longer. "What the hell was I supposed to do there?" he asked. "I saw everything there was to see. Matt was busy answering questions and trying to sell his work. I'd of just been in the way. Hell, he's probably glad I took off when I did." Frustrated by his conversation with his wife, he had just thrown himself on the bed and turned on the TV when Matt walked in the door.

"Hey," Matt said, removing his coat and tie and tossing them over a chair.

"Hey," Eric called back.

Matt went to the bathroom and came out a few minutes later in sweats and a T-shirt. He lay down on his bed with his arm behind his head, which was propped up on a couple of pillows. "Is ESPN all you ever watch?" he asked.

"Nah," Eric said. "I just now turned it on. We can watch whatever you want. History channel or something."

"Whatever you want's fine."

The kid sounded upset, but damned if Eric was going to ask him what was wrong. "Nice show," he said.

"I guess."

"I liked the etchings."

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

"What? I did. They're powerful. I don't know anything about art, but they hit you. You know, they really hit you," he patted his chest over his heart, "here."

Matt sat up cross-legged on his bed. "I never sell the etchings. I only sell the sculptures. I don't understand why. But you liked them? You mean that? You're serious?"

"Of course I mean it."

"Well, you got out of there as fast as you could. I mean, sometimes I think you just think what I do is stupid."

Eric switched off the TV. He walked to the hotel fridge and pulled out two beers. "Want one?" he asked, handing a bottle to Matt.

"Sure." Matt grabbed the beer.

"Wanna sit on the balcony with me?"

"A'right."

The men settled into the plastic chairs on the cement porch and looked out over the New York cityscape.

"Look, Matt," Eric said at last, "I was just uncomfortable there. I respect what you do. I do. I just don't understand it. I don't understand art. Those people…they made me feel like a fool."

"Yeah, that crowd can be a little affected sometimes."

"I didn't have much of a liberal arts education in college, you know. Mostly sports management and nutrition and fitness classes. A little science, some history. Nothing like art, that's for sure."

"It's okay, you don't have to explain yourself." Matt held his bottle between two hands, turning it. He sought to change the subject. "What do you want to do tomorrow? I just have that thing in the morning and then we're free all day until our train leaves at 8."

"I don't really care. I'll tag along with you, whatever you want to do." The coach took a swig of his beer. They listened in silence to the sound of car horns honking. "The city that never sleeps," Eric murmured.

"I like it," Matt said. "We're thinking about moving here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Matt muttered. "What? Why? You gonna ask me if you think I can afford New York? If moving with a baby is a good idea? If it's good to risk a move when I've got a job in Chicago? Well, I actually got an offer at the – "

"Calm down, son. Calm down. I was just going to say that's good. I'm glad you're considering New York. Y'all'd be closer to us then. Just a short train ride. That'd be nice. We could see Henry more."

"It's kind of weird, isn't it?" Matt asked. "That Gracie is like his aunt?"

"She's not _like_ his aunt. She _is_ his aunt."

"Yeah, that's what I meant. Clearly."

Eric glanced at him. "Sorry, yeah, I knew that's what you meant. But why does your generation use the word 'like' all the time? It makes you sound stupid. Which you're not. Clearly."

"Because if we didn't, then how could your generation feel superior?"

Eric laughed. "Damn. I'm starting to sound like my own old man."

Matt smiled. He asked Coach Taylor if he wanted another beer and then ducked back into the hotel to get them each one.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"I finally got him down. He usually sleeps twelve hours, but he still wakes up twice." Julie sat cross legged in the arm chair. She grabbed her stocking feet with her hands and looked at her mom, who was sitting on the floor by the coffee table and flipping through a stack of files. "When's this colleague of yours coming over for dinner tomorrow?"

"7:30," Tami replied. "Sorry to do this to you on our Sunday alone together, but Dr. Tate and I have got to work out some changes in this admission process." She placed an open hand on the top file. "There are some really good kids who are getting overlooked here. We implemented some changes when I first came on as Dean of Admission, but they just don't go deep enough."

"That's okay. We've got tonight and all day tomorrow to hang out together. I don't need Sunday night too. You mind if after I eat with you guys tomorrow, though, I turn in early?"

"No, hon. Not at all. It's rough, the first year, isn't it?"

Julie shrugged. It _was_ rough, but she wasn't going to admit that to her mother, whose first words when she had told her she was pregnant, those three months before she and Matt got married, had been, "Julie, what were you thinking?"

Instead of answering, Julie said, "So you like your new job?"

"I love it, hon. I love it. I admit I miss counseling kids…sometimes I wonder if I'm doing as much good here as I was in Dillon, but I _do_ think I'm making a difference long-term in some of these kids lives, even if I don't get to see the impact as directly."

Julie stretched out her legs, swiveled sideways in the chair, and draped them over the arm. "So what's with Dad and this Sports Medicine thing?"

"Oh, hon, I don't know about that." Tami shook her head. "It's just something he's decided he wants to do."

"Midlife crisis?"

"Don't you _dare_ suggest that to him."

Julie laughed and Tami smiled in response. "I don't know, Jules. I think he sees everyone around him making changes – you getting married, having a baby, me starting this job, Matt taking off as an artist…and feels like he got stuck in a rut. Got left out of all that."

"But he's really good at coaching and teaching."

Tami now stood up and stretched. "That's what I told him," she said as she sat down on the couch. "But I think what he needs now is for me to encourage him in whatever he's doing right now. He knows he's a great coach. I guess he needs to know he's a great student and then later…a great…whatever he's going to do with it."

"You're good at that, mom. The support thing. Sometimes I wonder how you do it." Julie could see the concerned look in her mom's eyes as she said these words. She knew her mother loved her and would listen to her, but it wasn't always easy to talk to her. It was hard, wanting both the comfort and approval of a mother at the same time, because what if the things you needed her to comfort you about were things she disapproved of? "I never know what to say to Matt about his art. He's been successful, has already made a lot of money with the sculptures, but he never seems satisfied. It's like he thinks he's a failure even when he's doing well."

"Matt's had a hard life, hon. His mom left him, came back…his dad left him…came back…left again…he's had to deal with a lot."

She didn't say how Julie had also once left him and later come back, but that, Julie realized with a sudden pang, was probably another blow to his self-esteem.

"All that stuff leaves scars," her mom continued. "You may not be able to heal them. But you can soothe them. I'm sure you do – I'm sure just having you with him is a comfort and encouragement to him."

"Thanks, mom. You know he wants to move to New York?"

"He does?" Tami's eyes brightened. "That'd be a lot closer." She paused and studied her daughter's face. "But how do you feel about it?"

"I told him I'd be fine with it."

"That's not what I asked, Julie baby. I asked how you _felt_ about it."

Julie swiveled forward in the armchair again. "I'm not really sure. It'd be closer to you guys, which is great. New York has a really great writer's community, and that's my goal right now, to become a real writer. The thing is…it was really hard making friends in college. I think that's why I ended up…you know…with that T.A…" She looked away from her mom's eyes, cursing herself for even mentioning what had probably been the biggest mistake of her life. "Then when I moved in with Matt and switched to a community college, I thought, this will be great. I'll have Matt and I won't be so lonely."

"It doesn't work that way though, does it?" Tami asked. "Your husband can and should be your best friend, but you need more than that."

"Yeah. And it took me a long time to make friends. And it's not like I have deep roots in Chicago or anything, but I finally – I finally have two or three people I can actually call friends. And even though there's lots of opportunity in New York for both Matt and me, I'm not sure I want to start that whole thing all over again – trying to get connected all over again." She pulled her hands into her sweatshirt. "Honestly? I think I'd rather just stay in Chicago."

"I understand."

"And I feel like Matt doesn't even care, that he's thinking about his career, that he's not thinking about what's good for me, about my goals and dreams."

"Well," Tami said, leaning back and putting a hand on the arm of the sofa. "I know what that's like. I've been there with your dad before. But he came around, after I talked to him about it enough. Have you told him how you feel?"

Julie shook her head. She brushed a strand of hair from her face. "I don't want him to feel like I don't support him, you know? Like you said…he's had a hard life, and he's got a really great job offer in New York."

"Julie, you need to talk to him, hon. You might end up going to New York anyway, but at least it will be a decision you make together. If you don't at least talk it out first, you're going to resent it later."

Julie nodded. Then she stifled a yawn.

"Go on to bed, hon," Tami said softly. "You're worn out."

"Okay. You don't mind?"

"I'm not far behind you," Tami said, but she reached for a stack of files.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

When Matt returned to the balcony, he popped both of the beer bottles open and set them on the small, plastic square end table between them before settling back into his chair. His father-in-law drained the last of his first bottle, set it down on the porch, and grabbed a second off the table.

"So," Matt said, "I hear you teach an undergrad class on sports nutrition. Do you tell them how much beer you drink?"

"Absolutely," the coach replied. "I advise them to have two beers a day to reduce their chances of stroke, a glass of red wine to lower their cholesterol, and a scotch to calm their nerves."

Matt chortled and then asked, hesitatingly but with great curiosity, "So…is it true? Are you really getting hit on by pretty co-eds?"

"Hell yeah."

Matt nearly spit his beer out when he laughed. "Seriously?" he asked.

"Hey, apparently I'm a handsome man. Who knew?"

"There's, like, 20-year-olds hitting on you?"

"Well, it's graduate school. I think the average age is more like 24."

"Still, though, only a few years older than your daughter. That's kind of…gross…isn't it?"

His father-in-law laughed. Matt wasn't quite sure what this laugh was. It was like a combination between his "you're an idiot" laugh and his "I'm uncomfortable and I don't know what else to do" laugh.

"Well," Coach Taylor said when he was done laughing, "check back with me when you're 40 and tell me if you still think it's gross." He glanced at Matt's dubious expression. "Besides," the coach continued, "there's really only one woman whose been seriously hitting on me, and she's 26."

Matt raised his eyebrows.

"There's a hell of a difference between 21 and 26."

Matt wondered if this was supposed to be a commentary on his own immaturity. The coach seemed to read his irritated reaction and replied, "I only say that because I teach a class of 20-year- olds…you know…and…Actually, to tell the truth, I can barely tell the difference. That's how old I am. Maybe you're right. Maybe it is gross. But it's not like I encourage it. Well…maybe I did at one time, but I sure don't anymore. I've made it very clear I'm not…I don't encourage it."

"Well I hope not. You've got a good woman there at home."

"That I do," his father-in-law nodded. "That I do. You too." The coach scratched his cheek, rested his chin on his hand, and asked, "How's that going by the way?"

Matt thought his father-in-law was probably trying to switch the subject away from the young woman who was hitting on him, and that was fine with Saracen. He was beginning to regret broaching the topic. "How's what going?" Matt asked. "You mean our marriage?"

"Yeah. With a new baby and all…I remember how hard it was."

Matt looked away. "It's a'right. Maybe we've been a little distant. But we're working on that. We're going to change that."

"Should have been Julie here this weekend instead of me."

"Ah…" Matt said, setting his beer down. "I don't blame her." He slid downward in his chair and shoved his hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt he had thrown on before coming out. "She's really tired with the baby. And these shows aren't much fun for her. Truth is, she kind of feels like you. She knows more about art than you do, but it's not like she's into it the way I am. She'll come to my shows just like your wife comes to your games, but that doesn't mean she doesn't sometimes get bored."

"Tami rarely missed one of my games. The ones in Austin of course, when she was pregnant and working full time. That first awful one at East Dillon, and the one when she had the Braemore interview. A couple of away games that were really far out. That's how rare it is – I can remember every one she missed. When Julie was a little baby, she'd bundle her up tight and bring her to even the coldest games."

Matt took his hands out of his pockets and reached for his beer. He wondered if he looked as uncomfortable as he felt. He sensed his father-in-law glance at him. "But that's a different thing," the coach continued hastily, obviously trying to minimize the suggestion made by his words.

Matt said nothing and took a pull on his beer.

"And, you know," the coach murmured, "I think the main reason Jules didn't come, maybe, was she wanted us to bond."

Matt laughed. "Over an art show? That wasn't too smart of her was it? She should have sent us to a football game."

"No," his father-in-law said quietly, seriously. "She shouldn't have. I've seen you as a football player pretty much the whole time I've known you. I put you in that cubby hole and I kept you there. And even when the peg didn't fit…I kept trying to shove it in."

Matt looked away, down at the bottle in his hand, and half nodded.

"You were a good player, don't get me wrong. You didn't have the skills of a J.D. or a Vince – but you had the heart. You had the heart. And you were good. But you're more than a football player. Hell, you're not even a football player anymore. I'm sure you still enjoy the game, but that doesn't define you. It was a good chance for me to come this weekend, get to know more of…more of who you are."

Matt glanced at the coach, who wasn't looking at the traffic far below anymore, or the neon lights on the city signs, but up, at what little could be discerned of the stars. "And…you know what?" he continued. "Football doesn't define me either. I love it, I do. I love that game. But it doesn't define me. It's not _all_ that I am. I think a lot of people look at me, probably you too, and assume that's all that I am."

Matt was silent for a long while. When he finally spoke, it was a question. "Is that why you're going back for your masters? What are you planning to do with it?"

The coach looked back down from the sky and picked up the beer clasped between his legs. "Well, I thought about exercise physiology but decided to concentrate on biomechanics instead. It's pretty intense. A lot of science and math. But I was always interested in that as a kid." He chuckled. "Mostly to be able to calculate throws and blow stuff up in my backyard."

It was weird hearing words like "biomechanics" and "physiology" coming out of coach's mouth. Matt was more used to hearing words like 'crush,' 'defeat,' 'damn' and 'character.' "What's biomechanics?" he asked.

"Textbook definition? The application of mechanical principals to biological systems."

"Yeah. And what the hell does that mean?"

His father-in-law snickered. "Well, from a practical standpoint…for instance…by understanding the biomechanical properties of a football-related head concussion or, say, a spinal injury, I could help come up with better preventative and treatment techniques. That sort of thing."

"So, like, you'd be a doctor?"

"No, no, I won't have an M.D. But I could do research, or personal training, or be a consultant…and still help with that sort of thing."

"Did what happened to Jason Street…did that make you want to study Sports Medicine?"

Coach Taylor glanced at him with what, to Matt, looked like surprise. "Yeah. I guess that probably was an influence." The coach bent forward, fiddled with his bottle. "If I could prevent something like that from happening to another kid…or if God forbid when it happens I could help come up with better ways of dealing with it…maybe…maybe I'd accomplish something a little more important than winning the next game."

Matt nodded. "Yeah. That would be good work. I think the kind of work that makes getting up in the morning worthwhile is being able to create something out of brokenness – something… definitely not something perfect – maybe not even something beautiful – but something bandaged. Something better than broken."

Matt was thinking about his own work as an artist, but he clearly hit a nerve with the coach. "You get it?" his father-in-law asked. "Yeah, you get it. I used to do that coaching. Not that I'm complaining, but there's not as much brokenness at Pemberton High as there was at Dillon or East Dillon. I'm winning games we weren't expected to win. But I'm not…I guess coaching was always about more than winning games for me." He sat up straighter in his chair. "You really get it," he repeated with a nod. "See…I'm not sure Tami does. She's supportive, because she's just that kind of wife, but I think she's a little baffled about why I'm doing this."

"Did you explain it to her like this?"

His father-in-law shrugged. "I don't guess I quite had the words for it. But somehow you put a finger on it. It's kind of nice having a guy to talk to for a change. Tami's my best friend in the world, but there's something different about a male perspective. That's a problem I've had settling in on the East Coast. It's hard to make friends. People…they don't invite you over for dinner so much. We invite people over – seems like half the time they're too busy, the other half they come once and never reciprocate."

"So you don't like living in Philadelphia?"

"I didn't say that. It's just harder building community. In Texas that sense of community came easy. Hell, sometimes I even miss Buddy Garrity. But we're finally – finally – starting to work a few roots into the ground. It helps we've found a decent church. That took awhile. We were just too busy settling in at first. We didn't bother to go for months. Then we wasted time at a place that wasn't right for us. I think we've found the right church now. I think we'll get some kind of community out of that. Y'all go to church in Chicago?"

"Uhh…"

"Not my business, I know."

The sound of squealing tires below caused both men to leap up and look down. There were horns honking and men shouting, but no crash. When they settled back into their chairs, Matt said, "That's the only thing that's making me hesitate to move to New York. I think it takes Julie a long time in one place to put roots down. If I move her, she's got to start all over again."

"What does she say about moving?"

"She says it's fine with her…but sometimes…I think Julie's not all that assertive about what she wants."

The coach laughed sardonically. "Julie? My Julie? My daughter? Not assertive about what she wants? I find that hard to believe."

"Well she's different with me than she is with you. Because I'm different with her. Sometimes I think we just kind of plod along and keep things to ourselves so we don't have to fight."

"That's not a good idea," his father-in-law said, shaking his head. "If you think she's not saying something that needs to be said, you've got to confront her about it. And if you're not saying something that needs to be said, you need to say it. You'll fight, sure. But you'll get past it, and you'll be closer after because you dealt with it. Instead of bottling it up for ten years and then one day…" Coach Taylor drained the last of his beer. "Sorry. You didn't ask for my advice."

"Nah…I don't mind. You and T-Tami" – It was still hard for him to call his in-laws by their names, as he'd been asked to do - "have a great relationship. We could learn from it. But we're also not like you. I mean…you guys kind of thrive on the bickering, like…like it's one of your five love languages or something."

"Five love languages?"

Matt waved his beer, "Ah..it's a book…nevermind. It's a stupid book Julie made me read."

"I guess you're right. Julie's a sensitive soul. I guess you are too." Matt tensed defensively in his seat, and the coach hastened, "I just mean you feel things deeply. It's not an insult. It's an observation." Coach Taylor ran his tongue across the inside of his mouth, slouched down his chair, and continued, "You might not bounce back from a fight as fast as Tami and I do. It might be a hell of a lot harder for you. But that doesn't mean you should avoid the fight. I've seen this happen over the years, Matt. I've seen male friends, female friends – just keep it in to keep the peace. And that breeds resentment. And then one day one or the other comes home to a Dear John or Jane letter, and it's like an invisible bomb went off, but it was there all the time…all the time lit and sizzling."

"You should write a marriage self-help book. Use all these clever metaphors."

Eric responded to Matt's sarcasm with a sarcastic glance of his own.

Matt just smiled. After a moment, he said quietly, "I'll talk to Julie. Tell her I think she's not really telling me how she feels about this move."

"Good." The coach nodded. "Now me, personally…I hope you guys do end up in New York. It'll be nice to have you just a two-hour drive away. Nice to have a guy to talk to for a change. I just don't have enough male friends in Phili."

_Friends._ So is that how his father-in-law thought of him now? As a friend? Because if he did, that would have to mean Coach Taylor…Eric…really did think of him as a man…not just as a man, but as almost an equal.

Matt smiled to himself and gazed out at the New York city horizon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Eric jingled his keys in the lock. He and Matt had taken a cab home from the train station because they knew they would be arriving home late and didn't want Tami to have to drive out at night to that part of town to pick them up. When the front door swung open, Eric heard the sound of Tami's laughter. He could see down the hallway to the breakfast nook, where his wife sat at the table with a glass of wine. That was a common enough sight, but what was not so common was the distinguished, silver-haired man who sat across from her, laughing with her.

"Hey, hon," Tami called. "Glad you're home."

When he and Matt had dropped their bags in the foyer and Eric had closed the door, he began to walk heavily down the hallway. Tami stood and kissed him perfunctorily and motioned to the man across from her. "You remember Dr. Tate."

"Vaguely," Eric said, shaking the man's extended hand.

"Call me Bill," the gentleman replied.

"What are you two doing?" Coach Taylor asked. "Having a little wine? Just having a little wine and chatting?" He turned to his wife. "What time is it, Tami?" he asked, in a tone that said something more like, _What the hell is going on here?_

"Can you excuse me just one minute?" Tami said to Dr. Tate. "I'm going to help my husband get his bags to his room and then I'll be right back and we can finish our conversation."

Tami went and grabbed Eric's suitcase off the floor and walked quickly toward the bedroom. Eric followed her while Matt introduced himself to the man at the table.

"What time is it, Tami?" Eric demanded again as he entered the bedroom behind her.

"It's almost eleven."

"Where's Julie?"

"She's asleep. The kids are asleep. Lower your voice, Eric."

Eric turned and shut the bedroom door and then swiveled back to face her. "Don't tell me what volume to speak at!"

"Eric, I swear. What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me is that I don't particularly like coming home at almost eleven at night, expecting to relax with my wife who I haven't seen for two days, and finding her drinking wine and laughing with some strange man."

"Eric, he's not some strange man. It's Dr. Tate. Bill. He was on the committee that hired me. You met him at that faculty party, remember?"

"I don't really remember actually, but that's not the issue here - "

"Well what is the issue here, Eric?"

"The issue is – what's he doing here at this hour alone with you while everyone else is asleep?"

"What, I'm not allowed to have professional relationships now?"

"I didn't say that!"

"Shhh!"

He lowered his voice. "I don't know what kind of business you're conducting in there at" he jerked his wrist forward to glance at his watch "10:48 at night with - "

"He came over for dinner. He joined me and Julie for dinner because we had to discuss some changes to the admissions procedures at Braemore."

"He's been here since dinner? When was dinner?"

"And we got to talking, and Julie turned in, and time just got away from us."

"You got to talkin', huh? You got to talkin' for four hours over a bottle – how many bottles?"

"He's only been here for three and a half hours. Eric, I swear. You know what? Fine! I'll tell him to go right now."

"Don't do that." He moved toward the door to block her. "I don't want to be rude."

She pushed passed him, "No, I'll go tell him he has to leave right now." She threw open the door with a bang and stormed into the living room, where Dr. Tate was standing talking to Matt and looking quite embarrassed.

"I was just telling your son-in-law to deliver to you my goodbyes. I need to get going." Dr. Tate raised a hand in Eric's direction. "Nice meeting you again, Eric."

"Yeah, you too, _Bill_," answered a surly Coach Taylor.

When the front door had been closed behind Dr. Tate, Matt grabbed his bag jerkily from off the floor, muttered, "I'm going to bed," and disappeared rapidly down the hall, looking at his feet as he walked, stopping just long enough to glance up warily at the coach as he passed. "Thanks for the marriage advice last night," Matt whispered sarcastically before vanishing into the guest bedroom.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Matt slid into bed next to Julie and put an arm around her. She shifted in her sleep. He took his arm away and rolled over so that he wouldn't wake her, but a minute later, Henry did. The baby started crying in the pack n' play next to them, and when Julie sat up, Matt put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down. "It's a'right. I'll get him."

He rose and took Henry out of the pack n' play. He bounced him up and down with a soft, "Shhhhh…."

"Bring him here, Matt. He probably wants to eat."

"Didn't the book say not to feed him? That way we can get past the middle of the night feeding. If you just keep doing it - "

"I don't care what the book says. It puts him back to sleep. And that's the only way I get back to sleep."

Matt handed Henry to Julie and she cradled him, though he was getting a little too big to hold comfortably. Matt sat down next to her bed and stroked his son's head while he ate.

"What was my dad yelling about awhile ago?" Julie asked. "It woke me up. For about five seconds. Then I fell right back to sleep."

"Uh…I think maybe he and your mom were having a fight."

Julie turned and looked sleepily in his direction. "About the pretty young co-ed who's been hitting on him?"

Matt chuckled. "No. About the distinguished old Dr. Tate who was hitting on your mom."

Julie rolled her eyes. "Seriously? Dr. Tate? That guy's like…ten years older than my Mom."

"Like that makes a difference at their age?"

"He's nowhere near as good-looking as my dad."

"Yeah…well…but he ain't ugly either. And she was really laughing and smiling at him when we walked in. And I don't think your dad was too thrilled."

"Well, I could tell he was attracted to her at dinner just by the way he was looking at her, but I don't think my mom was flirting with him. She was just being her. You know, Ms. Sociable. Did they make up, my mom and dad?"

"I don't know. I just crawled in bed like five minutes ago. I guess they're still out there. I don't hear them yelling at least."

Just then the sound of Coach Taylor hollering "To hell with it!" rose and lingered in the otherwise seemingly silent house.

"Or maybe they're just on the other side of the house so we can only hear it when they get really loud," Julie said with a tight smile. She'd heard her parents bicker before, sometimes lovingly, sometimes not. They usually stopped the moment she walked in the room and pretended everything was okay, talking to her instead of each other, a wall of tension between them. But they always made up.

Julie had always hated it when they fought, but she had also appreciated that they seemed to respect each other enough to accept that there would be conflict and differences of opinion. They loved each other enough to compromise and to forgive and to move on. And yet… she'd never before heard her father yell at her mom quite like he just now had – sounding as if he wasn't just mad at some situation he thought she'd mishandled, some annoyance, some obstacle they hadn't agreed how to tackle - but at _her_. Like maybe there was something else behind his anger that didn't have anything at all to do with what they were fighting about right now.

Matt slid a little closer to Julie and wrapped his arm around her. "I'm so glad we don't fight like that."

Julie shrugged. "Oh, they'll be alright. They always are." She was reassuring herself, not him. "I mean, that's _so_ not our style. If you and I were yelling at each other like that, I would be terrified. But with them…okay…maybe I'm a little worried, but I'm pretty sure they'll be fine."

Julie slid Henry from underneath her shirt and handed him to Matt. "He's asleep." Matt took the baby gently and returned him to the pack n' play. He slid back under the covers and Julie cuddled up to him. "I don't like fighting," Matt said. "I don't like arguing with people. Because if I argue, then I might get mad, and if I get mad… I feel like… maybe I wouldn't be able to control it. So I'd rather just not deal with things sometimes…but…I know that's not good either."

He could feel Julie's body become tense against his. "I guess not," she said.

"Julie, do you really want to move to New York? Because I really want to. This is a great job offer, and it's a great city, and there's an even better art scene than Chicago, and I'll probably get in more galleries, but if you don't want to, we don't have to." When she didn't say anything, he asked again, "Do you want to move?"

"No," Julie muttered. "But why should it be up to me? You're the one with the career."

"It shouldn't be up to you. It should be up to us."

Julie, now clearly agitated, sat up. "But how can it be? How can it be up to _us_ if we want different things? One of us has to give. So isn't it easier if I just give and we don't fight about it? Because otherwise you'll just give and then you're going to resent me and think I don't support you."

"Maybe neither of us has to give. Maybe…I donna know. Maybe we could draw up a list or something with all the pros and cons of both places, and then maybe when both of us sees it, maybe one of us will change our minds."

Julie looked down at her hands. She nodded. "You know what? You know what? That's not a bad idea. Maybe we should try that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow, though, because I have got to get back to sleep." She flopped back down on the bed and rolled over.

"A'right. Good night, Julie." He lay down with his back pressed against hers. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said. "And thanks, Matt. Thanks for really caring about what I want."

He didn't respond. She knew it wasn't because he was asleep. It was because he didn't know how to. She kicked him playfully. "Good night," she said, and then she yawned, and in moments, she was asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

While Matt had been crawling into bed next to Julie, Tami had been clearing the wine glasses off the table, clanking them together noisily as she did so. Eric trailed her as she went into the kitchen to put the glasses in the sink. He leaned against the countertop beside her and gave her just enough room to turn around.

She pivoted and asked, "Seriously, Eric. Did you have to make a scene?"

"What scene? There was no scene."

"You made a scene."

"I said hello to the man. I said goodbye to the man. What kind of scene is that? An opening and closing act? There was no- "

"You embarrassed me in front of a colleague I have to work with every day. We have to work together, Eric. We have to plan things together. And yes, we get along too, as two human beings, having human being conversations. What's gotten into you?"

Eric stepped away to give her some space. He sighed. "Tami, you gotta admit it didn't look good."

"So you jump to conclusions? That's the first thing you do?"

"I'm _not_ jumping to any conclusions. I just think it's inconsiderate."

"Inconsiderate?"

"Yeah. Inconsiderate. Of the sanctity of our marriage."

"The sanctity?" she asked with derision. "Are you serious?" She glared at him.

"A'right," he said, holding his hands up in front of him in a defensive posture. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect to see some strange man when I walked through the door after a weekend away from my wife. You could of at least _told_ me ahead of time that you were having him over."

"Yes, I could have. I should have apparently. But it didn't occur to me my husband might fly into a jealous rage because he caught me discussing admissions with my colleague."

"I did _not_ fly into a jealous rage. And you know what? You wanna know something else? You were in tears on the floor because I went out in a _group_ with a female classmate, and here you are _alone_ with a bottle of wine and this guy - "

"That's _not_ the same thing!" She walked back out to the table and grabbed the empty bottle of wine. He remained in the kitchen. When she returned and began washing out the bottle in the sink, she said, "I was upset because you were interested in her. You were really interested in her. And that is just not the case here." She opened a cabinet beneath the sink and tossed the bottle into a recycling bin. It clanged loudly against the plastic sides.

Eric was looking away from her, an irritated expression on his face. Irritated and a little worried. "You're the one who told me women find maturity and confidence in a man sexy," he said. "Here's an older man, and he's not a bad looking guy, and he appreciates you. I mean, he's the one who got you hired, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is."

"So that's got to be a little flattering to you." He leaned back now against the refrigerator and looked at her. "To be respected that much. And then there you are splitting a bottle of wine with him and talking, and it didn't look like it was all about admissions, and you know it wasn't all - "

" - so what if it wasn't? I can't have casual conversations? I can't have friends?"

"And you're laughing at him and you're smiling at him and you have your shoes kicked off - "

"Eric, this is ridiculous! You are being _utterly_ ridiculous!"

"Fine!" He stood up straight. "To hell with it! Split a damn _case_ of wine with him tomorrow night for all I care."

She turned her back on him, picked up a dish towel, and ran it roughly over the wet counter. He got up close behind her and put a hand on the counter, trapping her against it. "It's a'right for me," he hissed in her ear, "to admit when there might be an obstacle to our marriage and to set up safeguards to make sure I stay faithful and we stay strong," his anger dissolved to injury as he spoke, "but you can't be bothered to do the same thing." He stepped away.

She froze in place. She hadn't expected that sound in his voice - not anger, but hurt. When she didn't respond, when she didn't even turn around to look at him, the anger returned. "Maybe I have a point worth considering, Tami. But it's more important for you to be right, isn't it?"

He stormed from the kitchen and down the hallway to their bedroom. He slammed that door and then went into their master bathroom and slammed that door too. He jerked open the shower curtain and turned on the water, turning the dial to all the way hot. He yanked his clothes off and flung them onto the floor in a corner of the room. He climbed in and stood under the scalding water, one hand against the tile wall, his head bent beneath the stream. He stood there like that for a long while, until the water turned lukewarm.

He was thinking about getting out when he felt a sudden draft and then a cool hand against his back. He jumped and turned.

"What are you doing?" he asked his wife. "What's your game?"

"My game?" Tami asked. "I don't have a game. I just thought you could use help washing your back."

He squinted at her through the water running down his face. "Well you must have some game."

"Turn around. I'll wash your back."

"Hell no, I'm not turning my back to a woman whose pissed off at me."

"What do you think I'm going to do?"

"I have no idea. But this makes no damn sense at all, you climbing in here naked with me when five minutes ago you were telling me how ridiculous I am."

"Are you going to turn around and let me wash your back?"

"No, Tami. No I am not. Not until you tell me what you're up to."

"Fine." She sighed. "While you were in here, I was standing alone in the kitchen thinking that maybe I was a little bit wrong, that maybe you had a right to be a _little_ upset – not as upset as you were, but a _little_ upset. That maybe I should have told you ahead of time Bill was coming over and that maybe, even though I don't really feel attracted to him right now, it might not be a _bad_ idea to set up some boundaries just in case. That maybe I should say I'm sorry to you. But instead of eating humble pie and saying all that, I just thought it would be a whole hell of a lot easier to come in here and get you to have sex with me, and then you'd forget how silly jealous you were and how insensitive I was to your feelings."

He had started smiling as soon as he heard "maybe I was a little bit wrong," and his smile just kept growing. Now he was nodding. "Well, now, sugar, that sounds like a very logical plan to me. Very logical indeed."

He leaned forward to kiss her and she leaned back away from him. "But now that I've eaten that humble pie and gone and said all that stuff," she said, "I guess I don't need to have sex with you anymore. Damn it's freezing in here." She slid back the shower curtain, leapt out, and quickly ripped the towel off the rack.

Before he could turn the faucet off and blink the water from his eyes, she had the towel wrapped around herself. "Hey, come on now!" he complained as he slid the curtain all the way open. As he was stepping out onto the bathmat, she opened the door, ran out, and shut it behind her. He glared first at the back of the closed door. Then he looked to his left at the empty towel rack, from which she had taken the very last towel. Then he frowned down at the bath mat that was growing soggy from all the water dripping from his body. "Come on!"


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Light filtered thru the lace curtains that adorned the window and cut across Tami's shoulder. Eric eased over next to her and kissed the spot where the light danced. She stirred. "Mhmmm," she complained. "Stop it." He smiled and lay back down, his arms behind his head. In the end, last night, his wife had not forced him to go to bed frustrated.

He was just about to drift back to sleep when Tami sat bolt upright, turned the alarm clock toward herself to check the time, and cussed. She was throwing back the covers when he tugged on her arm to pull her back down. "It's Columbus Day, remember? No school today. Lie back down." She turned and looked at him. He beckoned her towards him with his head. "C'mere." He patted his chest.

She pulled the covers back up and slid next to him, laying her head on his chest while he wrapped his arm around her back and sighed contentedly. "You don't have practice this morning?" she asked.

"Nope. Just this afternoon. And no class to T.A. today. No class to go to tonight."

"Is Gracie up? Do I have to get out of this bed?"

"Nah…she's up, but I heard Matt out there with her. He's probably up with Henry. I'm sure he'll feed her. We'll roll out of here eventually."

They were quiet for a long time. He toyed with the strands of her hair, wrapping them around his finger and then unraveling them. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for making a scene last night and embarrassing you. I didn't mean to, but you went back to the bedroom like you wanted to talk. If you had just let me go back there by myself, I'd have waited until he was gone."

"A conditional apology isn't really an apology, Eric."

"Neither is startling a man in the shower."

"Well, I accept the first half of your apology anyway."

"And I accept the second half of yours."

She giggled. She kissed his chest softly and then said, "Babe, I'm still not entirely sure why you were so upset. I think you're right that I should be cautious that I don't develop feelings for Bill, but I haven't. I promise I'll be on my guard against that."

"A'right. I don't know why it bothered me so much. I just…" He stopped stroking her hair and rested a hand on her shoulder. "I don't think it has anything to do with Bill himself. And the more I think about it, I don't think the fact that I was attracted to that woman in my class - "

She stiffened a little against him as he said this.

" – had much of anything to do with her either. I don't really know her, and if I did…I doubt…" Tami's body relaxed. "The thing is," Eric continued, "she stroked my ego at a time when I was feeling a little distant from you. And I could see Dr. Tate doing that for you. And I could see either of us, if we don't tend to this marriage like we should…I think I was so upset to see you laughing and drinking with him because I just don't feel like we've been connecting lately."

She slid out from under his arm and propped herself up. She looked down into his eyes and studied them.

He swallowed before he spoke. "We're in different worlds now, Tami, in a way we weren't back in Dillon. We used to move in the same world, that high school world. In a small town. We knew all of the same people. I knew all your friends, you knew all of mine…"

"Yeah, I know what you mean, hon. I guess that means we just have to work a little harder to stay connected."

"And sometimes," he sighed. "Never mind."

"No, hon, what? Go on."

His jaw was set tensely. Usually she let it go when he looked like that. She'd come to learn what it meant. It meant he disagreed with her about something, but he didn't want to say it, because he'd be irritated to be told he was wrong, so…he just didn't bother. It had taken her a long time to figure that out, a long time to realize that, as often as they bickered, and as assertive as he seemed, sometimes he just let her have the last word in an argument and then shut his mouth tight. And a lot of the time, she let him. But now, looking at the taunt lines of his face, and thinking about how he had been attracted to that classmate, and thinking about how she had spent nearly four hours talking to Dr. Tate, she thought she shouldn't let it go. "Tell me," she said softly. "I'm listening. I am."

He looked away from her gaze, but he answered, "Sometimes I feel like I'm working harder on this marriage than you are."

"What!" Her hair flicked back from her face as she jerked her head in offense and annoyance. "How is that even possible?"

"Yeah," he said, rolling over. "Yeah that's why I said never mind. So never mind."

She drew in a deep, calming breath. "Eric, I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to finish. So what do you mean by that? Why do you feel like you're working harder on this marriage than I am?"

He turned back and sat up, leaning back against the headboard. He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know. I just do."

"Well what the hell am I supposed to do with that answer?" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in frustration. "What do you think I could possibly be doing differently?"

"I don't know. Never mind. I'm sorry I mentioned it. Hey," he took her hand, clearly trying to calm her. "I think we need a weekend away. I got a lot of Friday games coming up and I've got that Saturday class…but…maybe I could skip it once, get the notes. Think Shelley would come for a visit, watch Grace, maybe in two weeks? We could leave after the game Friday."

"I can ask." She placed a hand on his chest and looked him right in the eyes. "Hey, babe…do you think maybe we should go see a marriage counselor?"

"Nah! No!"

"But it seems to me – "

He let go of her hand. "Nah. It's not as if we're having major problems. I mean," he smiled and slid a finger suggestively up and down her bare shoulder, "last night was pretty fantastic, wasn't it?"

"You mean the part where we were yelling at each other, talking over each other, overreacting to things because they meant something else? That part?"

"You know what part I meant. The making up part."

She now slid away from him and sat back against the headboard too. "People make the mistake of waiting until something serious happens to go to counselors all the time. I had students who did that too. And then the counselor is just left trying to glue the pieces together. And it doesn't always work. In fact, most of the time it doesn't."

"Tami, I don't want to go sit and talk to some stranger. I want to talk to you."

"But you're _not_ talking to me. That's the point. Not right now anyway. And okay, I admit maybe I'm not _always_ approachable." As a counselor, she had taken pride in being someone students could open up to, and she had long thought it important that her daughters always be able to talk to her. Yet she was not too self-unaware to concede, "Maybe _sometimes_ I do cut you off." Hastily moving away from this admission, she continued, "But it's also that you don't seem to even be able to put in words what you're feeling. A skilled counselor can give us guidance on how to talk to each other better, can give us some sense of direction on what we need to be talking about that maybe we aren't. She can referee our discussions."

"No."

"No? Just no. That's it? Just no?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much it. Just no. We don't need a marriage counselor. We've been married over twenty years and have survived everything life has thrown at us. Yeah, maybe we've gone in different directions lately, been a little bit distant, not quite given each other everything we've both needed, but we're dealing with it. We're faithful to each other, and we're making time to be alone together. We're doing just fine, given the time we've put in."

"The time we've put in?" Her hair again flipped from her forehead. "Like it's some kind of prison sentence, is that it?"

"You said that, Tami. I didn't say that."

"I didn't say that! I said that's what you implied. Is that how you feel? Like you're serving out a sentence with me? Like-"

Just then the door flew open. "Breakfast time!" shouted Gracie as she ran and leapt onto her father's lap, knee first, causing him to double over and groan.

"Oh, Gracie, watch where you're jumping, honey," Tami said, grabbing Grace and putting her on her feet on the other side of the bed. "We'll be out in a minute, sweetie."

"Breakfast time!" Grace shouted again and did a little dance on the carpet before running out of the room.

Tami turned to a wincing Eric. "Serves you right," she muttered, before throwing the blankets back, rummaging through the dresser drawers, pulling on her clothes, and heading out to the kitchen.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"Pizza," Julie was saying as Eric walked into the breakfast nook in a pair of jeans and a wrinkly white T-shirt. "Pizza goes in the Chicago column."

Tami slammed a coffee mug down on the kitchen bar on the other side of the breakfast table. A small dribble spilled out the top. "There's your coffee," she said.

Eric looked at her warily as he picked it up. "Thanks, _honey_."

Matt and Julie looked up from the paper that rested before them on the table and glanced from Coach Taylor to Mrs. Taylor and then slowly back at each other. Both grimaced as if to say _yikes, this is uncomfortable to witness_, but then Matt picked up his pencil and drew an arrow from pizza in the Chicago column over to the New York column. "No way. Have you had New York pizza?"

"Yes, I have actually," Julie answered, "and it's nowhere near as good as Chicago pizza." She erased his arrow.

"In Chicago, they put the sauce on top of the cheese," Matt insisted. "That's just wrong."

"Hey, I like it that way. And it's got such a buttery crust."

"What are y'all doing?" Coach Taylor asked as he sat down at the table.

Tami came and sat in the free chair next to him, putting a plate of bacon and pancakes down in front of herself.

"Where's mine?" Eric asked her.

"You have legs, _honey_. And you can thank your son-in-law for cooking."

"Thank you," Eric drawled in Matt's direction as he went to the kitchen to fix himself a plate. He stopped to glance through the other side of the open kitchen to the living room where Grace and Henry were playing quietly. Once Henry began crawling, they weren't going to be able to plop him down in the middle of the floor like that and just leave him.

When Eric returned to the table, Julie explained, "We're drawing up a pro and con list for New York and Chicago so we can decide where we want to live."

Eric picked up a piece of bacon and ripped it in half. "Well, put that you'll be closer to your family in the pro-New York column." He popped the bacon into his mouth.

"It's already there," Matt replied.

Eric swallowed and then motioned to the list. "The Jets are better than the Bears this year. That's got to go in the New York column."

"Dad," Julie said, raising her eyes to his with exasperation. "We aren't going to be choosing where to live based on the relative quality of football teams."

"It's more important than the relative quality of pizza, ain't it?" Eric asked.

Julie shook her head and stood up. She stared down at the list she and Matt had been compiling since that morning. Even without Matt's arrow on the pizza, the pro-New York column was twice as long as the Chicago column.

"You know what else you should put in the pro-New York column?" Tami asked. "They have great marriage counselors there, in case you ever need one."

Julie looked at her with a furrowed brow. "You think Matt and I are going to need a marriage counselor?" Then she looked at her father's tense face and then back to her mother. "Oh," she said. "This is your own issue right here. You two totally need to resolve that." She picked up her empty plate and coffee cup and dumped them in the kitchen sink. Matt smiled uncomfortably at his in-laws and then followed Julie. The two disappeared into the living room, leaving Eric and Tami alone at the table.

"You had to do that in front of the kids, did you?" Eric asked. "You're going to worry Julie half to death."

"Am I? Am I?" she asked loudly, and then lowered her voice to a terse whisper. "Well I'm trying to worry you, Eric, because you don't seem too worried. You tell me you're not feeling connected and that I'm not working hard enough on this marriage and then you don't want to do anything about it."

"I do want to do something about it. I want to go away with you for a weekend."

"Oh, a bed and breakfast and a couple nights of sex is going to fix everything?"

"It ain't gonna hurt anything."

She rose and picked up her plate, which was only half eaten. "I'm going in to work," she said. "I know it's a holiday but I've got stuff to do. I'll be back to take Matt and Julie to the airport."

The dishes clanged loudly in the sink. Eric sat alone at the table and drummed his fingers against the wood. He didn't try to stop her when she grabbed her purse and walked out the door.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Do you think my parents are going to be all right?" Julie asked. They were sitting in the terminal waiting for their flight to board. Mrs. Taylor had dropped them off half an hour ago, and they had gotten through security with surprising speed. They now had an hour to wait.

Matt was watching Henry, who had managed to drag himself, army crawl style, on his stomach down the entire length of chairs. The gate was sparsely populated and what few patrons there were merely tolerated the child dragging himself slowly past them. Matt now stood to reclaim his son, plucking him up from the ground, walking him back to their seats, and setting him down to repeat the languid process.

"Yeah," Matt reassured her. "Yeah, you said it yourself, they always pull through these little fights."

"This one doesn't seem so little. Did you hear that comment my mom made, about the marriage counselor?"

"Yeah, I caught that."

"You know, you hear about this all the time. People our age who think their parents' marriages are just perfect, and then they go away to college or get married or whatever, and the parents just suddenly get a divorce."

"Your parents are not getting a divorce, Julie. They love each other. They've been together forever. Besides, they still have Gracie."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said, pausing to grab Henry and return him yet again, "that they aren't going to let their home get broken up and leave your little sister to be tugged between them. Coach wouldn't do that."

"You know that, huh?"

"We talked a lot in New York. Besides, I know what kind of man he is. He's just not that kind of man."

"Things happen, Matt. Even with good people, things happen sometimes."

"Yeah, well, they're not going to _let_ it happen. Not those two. Hey," he wrapped an arm around her and drew her in close. "Hey, everything's going to be a'right. I promise."

"You can't promise something like that, Matt."

"A'right then. I promise I'm going to be here. No matter what. You got me, okay? You got me. You know that, right?"

She smiled and nodded and snuggled in close. "I know that," she whispered.

_[*****]_

When Tami walked through the doorway after dropping off Matt and Julie, she saw Eric sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, his arm outstretched and his hand down, looking straight at the front door, as if he'd just been waiting. He had been at practice when she returned from work to pick up Matt and Julie, and they hadn't seen or spoken to each other since she had left in frustration that morning. In front of him now was an empty wine glass, and at the seat across from his was another empty wine glass. An uncorked bottle stood between them. "Sit down," he demanded.

Tami hung up her purse and coat on the coat rack and slowly made her way to the table. She sat in the chair and glanced at the bottle – Pinot Gris – her favorite. As he leaned forward to pour her a glass she asked, "Where's Gracie?"

"Napping," he replied.

"Napping? She doesn't nap anymore. She hasn't napped for over a year."

"Yeah, well, I brought her to football practice with me this afternoon and I ran her real good and now she's napping." He now filled his own glass.

"So what's the occasion?" she asked, motioning to the wine glasses. "That's one of our better bottles."

"No occasion. I just thought you'd like to relax after all that traffic."

Tami took a sip of her wine and then put the glass down on the table. Her morning at work had given her some time to calm down, to accept that Eric's refusal to go to marriage counseling was probably born more out of self-defensiveness and fear than disinterest in the health of their marriage. Clearly he was concerned about their marriage and wanted it to be stronger. In fact, based on what he'd said in bed this morning, he apparently felt as though he had been working harder on the marriage than she had, a feeling she did not at all understand. They were going to have to address that eventually, preferably in counseling. She would have to work on him to get him there, but she decided she was going to let the subject go for the moment. Just for the rest of the day.

Eric turned his wine glass on the table by the stem, not quite looking at her. "I don't want it to be a woman," he said.

"What?" She couldn't imagine what he was talking about it, because it hadn't occurred to her he might have changed his mind already.

"The marriage counselor." He let go of the stem of his wine glass, folded his arms in front of him, and leaned forward, "I don't want it to be a woman because then she'll just side with you on everything. I want it to be a man."

"A man?" Tami asked, taking another sip of her wine and then putting it down on the table. "Because you think a man will be more likely to side with you?"

"No. I think a man will be more likely to be objective."

"Oh, really now, that's what you think? Men are more objective?"

Eric nodded.

Tami snorted. "Well, I don't know about that, but I'm fine with a man, hon. If that's what you want, I'm fine with a man." She picked up her glass. "So you're really willing to do this, then?" She sipped.

Eric rested his forehead on his hand and rubbed his temple with his thumb. "It's obviously important to you. I still don't think it's necessary, but it's obviously important to you."

She put down her wine. "I think it's important for _us_." She came and stood behind him, wrapping her arms around across his shoulders and down his chest. He leaned back against her and looked up. She brought her lips down to his and kissed him slowly. "Thanks, hon," she whispered when she pulled away. She let her hand trail across him as she came around to sit in the chair directly next to him. They held hands on the table. "Thanks for always being willing to work at us."

"Well, I guess you're lucky that I don't want to end up a lonely old man." He squeezed her hand. "Yer welcome."

"You know…I want to do that work too. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I know."

She wasn't sure how sincere he was in that response. She was about to insist again that she was just as committed to working at this marriage as he was, probably even _more_ committed – after all, he'd been the one who was reticent about going to a counselor - but she stopped herself. Save that for the counselor's office, she thought, for a refereed discussion where maybe she'd be a little less inclined to dismiss his concerns. Because, if she was honest with herself, she had to admit…she sometimes did. "When did you put Grace down?" she asked instead.

"About ten minutes ago."

"How long do you think she'll sleep?"

"She was really worn out, but, like you said, she doesn't nap anymore. Maybe thirty minutes, if we're lucky."

"Well you better hurry up then," she said, standing.

"Hurry up and do what?"

She smiled suggestively and then began sauntering away from the table. She wasn't surprised that he didn't immediately grasp her meaning; it wasn't often that she wanted to make love two days in a row. And perhaps, if she was again honest with herself, she would have to admit that lately she had been using sex as a kind of patch to cover the tear in the fabric of their marriage, but a patch would serve until they could wholly mend the cloth.

He sat there a little dazed, and she was halfway to the bedroom before he realized what she was implying. He leapt from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process, and rushed after her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Tami heard the phone ring just as she was walking out the door. Eric's game started in ten minutes, and it was already going to take her twenty to get there, but she made the mistake of glancing at the caller ID on the way out. She never said no to a call from Julie.

"Hey, Julie babe," she said as she picked up the phone.

"Hey, mom. You got a minute?"

"For you, always."

She heard Julie's subdued chuckle followed by a babble from Henry, and then Matt's murmuring voice as he apparently took the baby off of Julie's hands.

"Just wanted to tell you guys we've decided to move to New York."

Tami tried not to reveal her enthusiasm immediately. "And you're okay with this?" she asked.

"Yeah," came Julie's voice. "Yeah, I am. We came to the decision together, you know? Like you said. And I'm a little nervous, but I'm also a little excited."

Tami decided now was the acceptable time to let out a squeal. "That's great, Jules! It's going to be great having you ten hours closer."

"And I know it's still two months away, but we wanted to invite you to our apartment in New York for Christmas. We're planning to get three bedrooms. Matt will use one as a studio, but we'll have a futon in there for you and Dad to sleep on. We thought we'd put Gracie in Henry's room."

"Great." This was followed by a long pause, and for a moment Tami feared Julie didn't really want to move to New York. But then her daughter asked, hesitantly, "So…how are you and Dad?"

"We're fine. Health's good. Dad's got a game today. I'm about to head out to it. My work – "

"No," Julie interrupted. "I mean, how are you _and_ Dad – together."

"Oh." Tami leaned back against the countertop. "Oh. Yeah, I guess we seemed a little tense when you left for Chicago."

"That's an understatement."

"Well…I'll tell you the truth, Julie. We've hit a little bit of a rough patch. Nothing serious. We're going to be fine. But your dad and I have agreed to go get some counseling, just to make sure we get on the same page and stay strong. We start Monday. There's no shame in it."

"I didn't say there was." There was silence again for a moment and then Julie, doubtfully, "Dad actually agreed to that?"

"Your father is an enlightened, modern man."

Julie laughed, good and hard. Tami laughed too. "Well," Tami said. "He's a good man anyway. And, yeah, he agreed."

"Well, good." Julie sounded more relieved than worried, which led Tami to believe she had been already worrying about them a great deal. Tami felt momentarily annoyed at herself. She had always assured herself with the belief that whatever problems she and Eric might have, they would never fight in front of the kids. That hadn't always been the case. She thought to apologize to Julie, but didn't know quite how to do it. Sorries had never come easily with Julie. They had never come easily with Eric either for that matter.

"Julie, your dad and I are going to be just fine. I promise you that. We both believe in making marriage work. That's something we've always hoped we'd pass on to you, too."

"I know. You better go though, huh? You don't want to be late for Dad's game."

Tami agreed and said her goodbye, sending her love to Henry and Matt. She waved to Grace's babysitter and glanced at the clock as she headed out the door. When the garage door opener didn't work, she muttered a curse, got out of the car, and opened the door by hand. Then she muttered a new small curse with each red stoplight she encountered. By the time she reached the school and got into the stands, the Pioneers were already down six points.

She saw her husband glance at her from the sidelines, looking incredibly peeved, but she assured herself his irritation was directed at his losing team and not at her lateness. She smiled and waved to him. He nodded brusquely in her direction, turned away, shouted something at his quarterback, and got his head back in the game.

At least for a time. She noticed that he kept glancing back at her, even when he would normally be looking only at the field. She was accustomed to him searching the stands for her when his team scored a touchdown, seeking her approval, which apparently meant more to him than that of the scoreboard or the fans. She was unused, however, to his glancing back at every break in the play. She was beginning to wonder what it could mean when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Jumping, she turned.

"Bill!" she exclaimed as Dr. Tate removed his hand from his shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"The same things as you, of course," the man replied, stepping down from the bleacher above to stand beside her. "Watching the game."

"Oh," she replied hesitantly and then turned to look at her husband, to confirm if it was Dr. Tate's presence that accounted for his constantly returning gaze. But Coach Taylor was not looking at the stands any longer; he was running up the field, yelling and motioning as one of his players headed for the end zone. The boy didn't quite make it, but the crowd erupted in cheers at his progress, and Tami clapped. She did not smile as broadly as she usually did. She felt Dr. Tate's nearness too keenly.

Bill leaned in closer, apparently to be heard over the crowds, and said, "You told me your husband was a high school football coach," - he put a hand on her back as though to steady himself while leaning, but that, she thought, was really not an adequate explanation for the touch, "but I didn't realize he coached the Pioneers."

Tami only nodded, feeling suddenly awkward and not quite understanding why Dr. Tate had appeared beside her. She felt, with some relief, his hand slide away from her back. Had he researched her, found out where her husband coached, showed up intentionally to encounter her here? Had she given him the wrong impression during their dinner together, or during their casual chat afterward, or at some point during the workday? She could feel him looking at her now, and when he smiled and leaned in again and said, "Your husband's a lucky man," she did not know if he was talking about the risky call Eric had just made, which had resulted in a near touchdown, or if he was suggesting that she was a desirable wife.

She focused intently and uncomfortably on the game until half time, when the players and coaches began to return to the locker rooms. She saw Eric looking her way as he walked by the stands, and she shrugged as though to say to him, "I don't know why he's here."

Dr. Tate made conversation with her during the break, and she tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. If he had somehow followed her here thinking she had wanted his companionship during the game, how was she to put him off? Fortunately, one of the boosters in the stands recognized her from the team barbecue they had held that previous summer, and he came over to talk to her, preventing her from having to engage Dr. Tate too deeply. While she and the booster talked, Dr. Tate disappeared somewhere, but when the players returned to the field, Bill returned to her side. As the game resumed, he slipped an arm around her back and patted her shoulder, ostensibly to call her attention to the fact that he was pointing down field. "That one . . . " he said, motioning with his free hand across the field in a nondescript direction.

"What?" she asked, unable to decipher the end of his sentence over the sound of the cheering, leaning in closer to hear, even while trying to lean forward in order to shed his arm.

"Never mind," he yelled. "I'll introduce you later."

He dropped his arm, and for the rest of the game only made comments on the plays, such as "Good one," or "He should have seen that coming," or "Why did your husband make that call, I wonder?"

The game grew intense. It was a heated battle, but, in the end, the Pioneers lost by a single field goal. They headed back dejectedly to their locker room, their disgruntled coach trailing them. Tami turned to Dr. Tate and said, "It was nice running into you," though she really had begun to feel it was more strange than nice. She began descending the bleachers, hoping to put distance between Dr. Tate and herself before greeting Eric. Not that her husband hadn't already seen them together, and not that she was about to tolerate a second jealous display, but she was at least eager to show Eric her support and offer him her condolences for the loss, and that would be better done without Dr. Tate. Unfortunately, Bill followed her closely. She didn't realize he was on her heels when she called, "Hon!" to Eric.

Coach Taylor stopped and turned back on the sidelines towards her.

"Sorry, babe," she said, hugging him. His arms did not surround her, seeking her comfort, as they usually did after a loss. "You played a great game, though." She felt that he was not looking at her, but beside her, and she pulled away and turned to see Dr. Tate.

She looked back at Eric to read his reaction. He was clearly irritated, but he was just as clearly trying not to show it as he extended his hand to Dr. Tate. "Hey, Bill," he said, with forced calm. "Did you decide to join my wife for the game?"

Dr. Tate clasped his outstretched hand and shook it. "Yes, I noticed her in the stands. Didn't realize you were coach of the Pioneers. What a coincidence!"

"Coincidence?" Coach Taylor asked.

"Yes," replied Dr. Tate. "I suppose Eddie never mentioned his coach's name to me, now that I think of it. And this is the first game I've made it to this year. His mother and I are divorced, and she doesn't like me coming to the games much. She couldn't come today, though, so I was…finally permitted."

"Eddie? You mean Tater?" Eric asked with surprise.

"Tater? Is that what you guys call him?"

"It's what his friends call him," Eric replied. "It never made sense to me before. I just assumed it was some inside joke involving a potato. I guess he used to go by your last name?"

Dr. Tate appeared unnerved. "Yes. But he took his stepfather's name two years ago."

Eric nodded. "That's why I'd of never guessed. Well, he's a good kid. He doesn't have a lot of skill currently, I'll be honest with you, but he's a team player a'right and he listens well. His teammates respect him. He's a good kid."

Dr. Tate smiled and Eric nodded his farewell. He leaned in quickly to give Tami a quick peck on the lips and said, "I'll see you at home" before following his team to the locker room.

Tami heard Bill say goodbye to her as he went to wait for his son in the parking lot, and she sighed with relief. She laughed at herself for letting Eric's jealousy get to her. So Dr. Tate had not stalked her to the football game after all.

Nevertheless, she had to admit, since tonight she had been on her guard enough to recognize it, that he was perhaps a little over attentive to her and that he had found more opportunities than necessary to touch her. Eric had been right about this much at least - establishing a few boundaries certainly would not be a bad idea.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Tami was sitting on the couch in a pair of tight-fitting sweats and a Pioneer T-shirt, her legs tucked up under her Indian style – or "criss cross apple sauce" as Grace had been told to call it in preschool – trying to find something to watch on TV. She paused to flick away a speck of fluff from her T-shirt and thought that Eric had been right to complain about the unattractiveness of the Pioneer green when they first moved to Philadelphia. It didn't look nearly as good on either her or him as the Lion red. But then, she loved him in red.

Eric, now finally returning from the game, opened the door and dropped his duffle bag in the foyer. She glanced at it from the living room with annoyance. She hated when he just left it in the middle of the front hallway like that. He must have noticed her gaze because he immediately picked it up.

"What took you so long to get home?" she asked.

"Had to talk to one of my players."

Well, she thought, at least he hadn't stayed late to have a pissing match with Dr. Tate.

Eric plucked off his green cap and ran a hand through his sweaty, matted hair. "I'm gonna take a quick shower." He walked off toward their bedroom with the duffle bag in hand.

When he returned, he was wearing sweats and an old, gray, Dillon Panthers T-shirt, which was ripped underneath the left arm and at the bottom in the right hand corner. She was going to have to sneak that in the trash one day when he wasn't looking. He eased back against the cushions and sighed wearily. She scooted over closer to him, slid an arm around his back, and began massaging his neck. She could feel the tension in his muscles. "You played a tough game, hon."

He closed his eyes. "I lost."

"Yeah, but you played hard, and did anyone really expect y'all to win that one?"

"Expectations have changed. Win a few games you're not expected to win, and expectations change."

"Sorry, hon." She continued to rub his neck. After awhile she stopped and let her hand rest on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and thanked her for the massage. She kept expecting him to say something about Dr. Tate. She assumed he must have been annoyed to see them so close together in the stands, but he wasn't saying anything at all about anything. He was just staring blankly at the TV screen, at the documentary she had settled on. She didn't think he was really interested in the biography of Carl Jung. And the tension – real or imagined, she wasn't sure – was killing her. She picked up the remote and switched the TV off. He didn't protest. He just sat there looking semi-dazed.

"Sorry I was late to the game," she apologized.

"It's a'right."

"Julie called as I was walking out the door. They're moving to New York."

"That's good."

When he didn't say anything else, she broached the subject of Dr. Tate. "So…that's interesting, huh? Bill being the father of one of your players?"

"Fascinating."

"Look, Eric, I didn't know he was going to be there."

"Mhmm. He found you pretty quick though, huh?"

"I guess so." She wanted to tell him that even though he had approached the issue poorly, he had been right about the whole boundaries with Bill thing, that she now realized Dr. Tate probably was attracted to her and maybe even thought she returned the feeling. Bill hadn't been stalking her, of course, but tonight he had been a little too touchy feely for her comfort. Yet she couldn't quite bring herself to make the admission. So instead she asked, "You really like this kid Eddie?"

"I wouldn't say really. He's a'right. I can see why he took his stepfather's name, though. At least his stepfather's been at all his games."

She understood he wasn't thrilled with Dr. Tate's attentions, but he didn't have to be so critical. That was just his jealously talking. "Well, you heard Bill. His ex doesn't want him at the games."

He glanced at her. She couldn't quite read his expression. It was annoyance, but it was something more than annoyance. He turned his head forward again. "Well, if I was divorced, I would never let that prevent me from supporting my kids. I'd always be there for them. I'd do whatever it took to stay on good terms with their mom just so I could be there for them."

Tami didn't like this mention of divorce, even if it was an obvious hypothetical, even if it was clearly contextualized. "Of course you would," she said. "You're a good and loving father. You always have been." Then she realized that by saying this, she had implied Dr. Tate was _not_ a good and loving father. And although she had no romantic interest in the man, and had every intention of discouraging his interest in her, she did like him. She respected him. He had been willing to shake things up when no one else had. He had seen her talent and had gotten her hired as Dean of Admissions even when it meant going against the tide. And he had helped her overcome some very entrenched obstacles at Braemore; he had been her bridge over the old boy network. "But maybe he's made the choice not to go to the games to keep the peace, for the sake of his son, to keep the peace."

"Why are you defending him?"

"Why are you attacking him?"

Eric sighed. He squinted his eyes closed and rubbed them. She put an arm back around him and began massaging his neck yet again. He let her. When she stopped, he said, "I'm tired. You ready for bed?"

"You mean for sleep or for…you know."

"Sleep."

"Because if you want - "

"I'm exhausted, Tami. It's been a long day. It was a long game. I appreciate the offer, but…I'm exhausted."

"I'm pretty tired myself," she said, even though she wasn't. She knew she was going to be lying in bed awake. Which is what she did, until about thirty minutes after he had fallen asleep, and then she slipped out of bed and back to the living room, switched on the TV, and tried to distract her anxious mind with some mindless talk show.

In three more days, they would have their first counseling session. Maybe Eric would finally tell her what was really going on in that mind and heart of his. She prayed for a breakthrough.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The marriage counselor held up a hand. "Okay, Tami," he said. "Why don't we let Eric have a turn?"

Tami nodded.

"And Tami," Dr. Heinz said soothingly, "it's also important that while Eric's talking, you're just listening. You're not interrupting or going over you response in your mind."

"I wasn't going to - "

The counselor held up his hand, "Maybe you weren't, but I just thought I'd mention it because the temptation is very strong for a lot of people."

Tami sat back a little uncomfortably in her chair and leaned on an elbow so she could tilt her head toward Eric.

"So, Eric," Dr. Heinz said. "Tami has told us about this woman you were attracted to at school."

Eric, not looking at anyone or anything in particular, nodded.

"And I think you two both handled that well. You were honest with Tami, you came to her with that temptation, you two agreed on boundaries before it went anywhere, and Tami didn't react jealously or hold it against you. You two worked out a course of action together, and really just did everything I would have advised you to do. I think before you came here today you already had a pretty good handle on that particular situation."

Eric and Tami glanced at each other and nodded together, a sort of proud, _yep, we did it; we know how awesome we are together_ nod. But then Dr. Heinz continued, "But Tami also talked about how she feels you don't always consult her and come to a clear agreement when you're making decisions. And this has been an issue over the whole course of the marriage. She mentioned you taking the Austin job a while – "

" - But I was on the spot, take it or lose it, and later I told her I'd stay in – "

"Eric, before you speak, we're first just going to review how Tami feels."

Eric was irritated by the interruption, but he silenced himself.

"Tami felt upset that even after she told you the night before she had a strong feeling you shouldn't take the job, you went ahead and took it. And she said that's not the only time you've made unilateral decisions. She mentioned you once kicking her sister out of the house without first dis – "

"- I didn't _kick_ her out exactly, that's – "

The counselor raised his hand and Eric heeded the signal. Dr. Heinz continued, "And she mentioned you inviting the entire team and all their parents over for a big party at your house without clearing it with her. She mentioned you signing off on some high school class changes for your eldest daughter, and a few other examples over the years."

Eric nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I heard all that. And she's right. I've done that sometimes. And I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have done any of those things without consulting her and reaching an agreement first. And I told her I was sorry all those times – all those times – I told her I was sorry."

"Well, it's good to say you're sorry," the counselor conceded, "but it's even better to show it by not repeating the offense."

"Yeah." Eric licked his lips. "Yeah." He glanced sideways at Tami. "I'll try...I'll work on that."

"And Tami also said – and I think this is really the issue we need to discus today, Eric – that she's concerned because you implied that you've been working harder on the marriage than she has."

"He didn't _imply_ it," Tami corrected. "He outright _said_ it."

Dr. Heinz extended the hand of silence once again. Tami raised her eyes toward the ceiling in clear annoyance but didn't speak further. Eric didn't respond. He just slouched down in his chair and bit his bottom lip.

"So, now, Eric," Dr. Heinz continued, "why _do_ you feel like you've been working harder on the marriage?"

"I don't know. I just do." Eric shrugged and then muttered, "I don't know. I guess I haven't been working harder. I guess I was wrong. I guess I just shouldn't feel that way."

"Eric, feelings are feelings, there's no should," Dr. Heinz assured him.

"Look, I'm not a moral relativist here," Eric grumbled. "There's always shoulds and should nots."

Dr. Heinz chuckled. "I'm not either, Eric. I have a doctorate in psychology, but I'm employed by your church." They went to a large Methodist church in Philadelphia, with a number of resources, including a full-time counselor. "I'm on staff here. They aren't going to hire any moral relativists to sit in this counselor's chair. But when it comes to feelings, it's about what you _do_ with those feelings. How you _act_ on them. That's what matters."

"Oh, yeah?" Eric asked, feeling suddenly argumentative, knowing as he did that a good offense makes a good defense. And right now, distracting Dr. Heinz from his initial question seemed the best thing he could do. "Is that why Jesus said if you even look at a woman to lust at her you've already committed adultery in your heart? Because there's no wrong way to feel?"

The counselor chuckled again. Eric didn't like all this chuckling.

"I think you and I both know," Dr. Heinz said clearly and slowly, "that there's an enormous difference between being attracted to a woman and actually having an affair. I think Jesus was talking about how feelings, if you don't deal with them correctly, can easily blossom into wrong actions. The feeling's not the sin. But if you don't _deal_ with the feeling in the right way…it could quickly become one. Now, you dealt with your attraction to that co-ed the right way. You didn't let that temptation get a handle on your heart. You admitted it and dealt with it, which is good, because the surest way to ensure your feelings eventually have negative consequences is to bury them without dealing with them. Like you've been doing with your anger toward Tami."

"Anger?" Eric huffed. "Anger? I'm not angry with Tami. I'm not angry with her about anything right now. What do I have to be angry with her about?"

"I didn't say right now, Eric. But you two have been married – what - two decades or so? And I'm sure, even if there were lots of times you two fought, there were just as many times in those years you were angry at Tami and didn't tell her, _really_ tell her, why. And each time you do that, each time you bury that – it doesn't go away completely." Dr. Heinz swiveled slightly in his chair and let a hand rest on the closed file on his lap, a file in which he had been taking notes while Tami spoke, somehow managing to look her directly in the eyes while and yet write at the same time. "It's all stored up in there somewhere, and, Eric, forgive me, but you strike me as a very angry man."

"What?" Eric shook his head and put a hand on the arm of his chair, gripping it hard. "I'm not at all an angry man."

Next to him, Tami glanced down at his tight grip and smiled sardonically. He looked at her and couldn't help smiling too. "Aw, come on, now!" he said. "Okay, maybe I get a little…maybe I can be a little tense sometimes. But I get that out on the field."

The counselor leaned back. He uncrossed his legs and let both feet rest casually on the floor. It was a small thing, this change in pose, but it immediately made Eric feel more comfortable with him. "You're fearless on the field, aren't you Eric?"

"I suppose."

"He is," Tami averred.

"You're not afraid of any opponent," the counselor continued, "you don't back down, you're incredibly assertive, in command."

"Yeah, I suppose I am." Eric smiled a little, not quite stifling the pride.

Dr. Heinz leaned forward, "Which is why," he said, "it's kind of amusing that you're so afraid of your wife."

Eric laughed uncomfortably. "I am not…that is just absurd. I am not afraid of my wife."

"Well, at the very least, you're afraid to tell her how you feel."

Eric just shook his head, smiling that nervous smile that always trailed the end of his uneasy laughter.

"Women have so much power over the men who love them. Don't they?" Dr. Heinz asked. "They have the power to make us feel happy, euphoric even, or to make us feel miserable. They have the power to make us believe in ourselves when we've just about lost that last bit of hope or to," he snapped his fingers, "emasculate us in a second."

Eric swallowed.

"And when you've been married as long as either you or I have, Eric – I've been married 23 years now - sometimes you don't want to rock the boat."

Eric nodded reflexively.

"If it's kind of comfortable and you're getting a reasonable amount of sex and you know she thinks relatively well of you and things are going along – why rock the boat, right?"

"Right."

"Well, because it's quietly sinking and you've got to get the water out. That's why."

Eric shifted and sat up straighter. He didn't mind this directness so much. He didn't mind this tone as much as the soothing one the counselor had used earlier with Tami. "Okay," he said, "Okay, I can…I can appreciate that. So, how do I get this water out?'

"Well, why don't you start by telling Tami why you feel she hasn't been working on the marriage as hard as you have?"

"Okay," Eric nodded, but he didn't look at Tami; he looked at the counselor. He scratched his cheek. "Okay." And then he began to talk.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Well," Eric said, still looking at the counselor and not at Tami, "it seems I think about what's best for the marriage…more. Like…about that Austin job she mentioned. I wanted her to go with me to Austin, and she insisted on staying behind in Dillon. I didn't think that was good for the marriage, to break us up like that, but she didn't seem to mind taking that risk."

"That's not - "

The counselor held up his hand. "Tami, I didn't let Eric interrupt when you were talking. Now it's his turn. This is what you _both_ have to learn. To _fully_ hear each other out _before_ you respond. Take turns instead of interrupting. You can do this at home by holding an object, a napkin or something, and then whoever has the napkin gets to talk until he or she has handed the na - "

"I'm not holding any napkin when I talk," Eric interrupted, looking with distaste at the counselor.

"All right, fine, Eric," Dr. Heinz said. "It was just as suggestion. Finish your thought. You feel Tami didn't care about holding the family together when you moved to Austin."

"No, I don't. And then when it came to keeping it together, that was all me too. I quit my job, I came back to Dillon, I put a man out of work - I had to have that on my conscience – which I wouldn't have had to do if Tami had either - "

"Say it to your wife, not, to me," Dr. Heinz insisted.

Eric turned to Tami, "If you had either followed me to Austin or let me back out of the Austin job like I suggested. I was willing to stay in Dillon, but – no - you had to be right that this absurd plan of yours to separate the family was going to work. We couldn't put the marriage first, because you thought I had to follow my dream and you had to follow your dream and we were oh so mature, and I knew, I knew it wasn't going to work!"

Eric was raising his voice now, but the counselor did not intervene as he continued, "But I couldn't reason with you! Because you made it clear there was no changing your mind. And your plan _didn't_ work. But I had to be apart from you for long stretches of time – and let me tell you that was not easy – no sex, no physical affection - feeling helpless because I couldn't help you with the baby and Julie - and then I had to quit my new job in shame and skulk back into my old job in shame – in shame, Tami!"

Now that the words were flowing and Tami wasn't being permitted to interrupt him, he found himself just continuing, "But I _did_ slink back in shame so I could keep our family together when it was falling apart, and you know what? You never asked, you never even _directly_ asked for me to come back! I kept waiting for you to ask! But you never did. So I just did it myself, and it would have been nice if you had asked, if you had just said, you know what, Eric, I'm sorry, I made a mistake, I'm sorry, turns out I need you after all."

Tami's eyes had grown wide and she was shaking her head.

"If you had just managed to do that, it would have been a hell of a lot easier crawling back to Dillon on my hands and knees, if I had just known you appreciated the sacrifice I was making, that you _needed _me to make it! Hell, that you _needed_ _me_!"

"Eric," Tami breathed. "That was years ago. I had no idea. No idea you felt - "

"That's not all either," he said. "There's more."

"There's _more_?" She slid her hands over the arms of her chair as if she needed something to hold onto.

"You kept saying it's my turn, it's my turn, when you wanted to move to Phili."

"Yeah, well, 18 years a coach's wife – "

"Eighteen years. I know. And you supported me and I appreciated that, but whose turn was it when you wouldn't follow me to Austin? Whose turn was it when I quit that TMU job? And you know why I didn't pursue that Shane State offer?"

"You felt a loyalty to the Lions, to that team, to those kids, you felt a – "

"Nah, no, that wasn't it. Well, that wasn't _all_ of it. I thought it wouldn't be good for our marriage to up and move us like that again, after all we'd gone through with the separation in Austin, the new baby, me getting fired from the Panthers and hired on with the Lions, you getting pushed out as principal, Julie going off to college - all those changes! I thought it was best for us that we keep settled. You said _I_ deserved it. _I_ deserved that Shane State job. But it wasn't just about me. _We_ were doing so well together, you and I, we were doing really well again, and it just didn't make sense to me to risk yet _another_ change. So I gave that up, gave up the college coaching job I'd always wanted, so we could really dig in the stakes and make sure our marriage stayed put."

"You didn't tell me that was why! I didn't ask you to turn that down! You just went and made another unilateral decision."

"Tami, listen, you're right about the unilateral decision thing. I'm sorry I've done that too often. But I didn't tell you all of why I turned down Shane State because I was afraid if you knew I thought another big change might be risky for the marriage, you'd just say that was ridiculous, that my fears were ridiculous. I was afraid you'd insist I take the job. Just like you insisted I go to Austin. And I didn't want to risk that. Not after all we'd gone through. So I did what I thought I had to do. I gave it up. Just like I gave up TMU. And the very next thing I know, you're talking about moving to Philadelphia!"

"Don't tell me you not wanting to move to Phili was about our marriage! That was about you, about your coaching career, about the Lions, the super team – whatever! I saw Phili as an opportunity not only for me but for our family!"

"Yeah, well I saw it as a risk. Another change that might unsettle what we'd built back up. I thought I had it all figured out, giving up Shane State, keeping us settled. I went and did that, went and gave that up, and I thought I'd made us safe. And then you come along out of nowhere with this Phili thing! And I thought - why is this happening? Why is this happening when for the last couple of years I've worked so damn hard to get close to you again, to root us down someplace. And you were sitting there in my office, telling me you wanted to move to Philadelphia, asking me" – he mimicked her - "How many times have we moved for your job?"

Tami drew in a sharp angry breath, but it didn't silence Eric the way it sometimes did. The floodgates had been opened. "And I couldn't answer you. I couldn't answer you because I'm sitting there thinking, yeah, we've moved a lot for my job, when I was the only income, when we had to, but we – _we_ – didn't move to Austin. And I decided not to move us for Shane State. Since you started your career, in fact, _we_ hadn't moved once for my job. And I was trying to keep us settled because you'd complained about all those moves in the past. And then suddenly you're saying let's move to Phili?"

Eric sighed, looked away, and then dragged his eyes back to Tami's. "Believe it or not," he said, "but I spend a lot of time thinking about the safest course for our marriage. And that's why even though it didn't make sense to me to move us for Shane State, even though I feared another big change on top of all those others might destabilize us, I decided to follow you for the Braemore job. I realized how much it meant to you. I knew you would have resented me if I didn't agree it was your - " he raised his hands to make an aggravated set of air quotes " - _'turn.' _I realized that would have been even worse for our marriage than a move. But sometimes I wonder how much you think about our marriage. Like that time when I tried to talk to you about Glenn - "

The counselor raised his eyebrows, but did not interrupt to ask who Glenn was.

" – and I said that you yucking it up with him was undermining us, you just laughed, you just laughed it off! But it _was_ undermining us, Tami, you know, to be sharing that kind of thing with another man at a time when we were struggling to reconnect after the job separation and the baby, at a time when I needed you, needed you, so badly needed you to be sharing more of yourself with me – "

" – we talked about that. I thought we came to an understanding about - "

"Tami, let him finish now," Dr. Heinz cautioned.

" – Yeah, I accepted it," Eric continued, "I accepted that friendship, but I _knew_ he was interested in you, which I was right about, because later he kissed you - "

"I did not invite that!" Tami interrupted. "I did not invite that kiss and I did not return that – "

" – I know you didn't! I'm not accusing you. I'm just saying maybe if you had been thinking about the marriage, maybe you wouldn't have put yourself in that situation in the first place. Maybe you would have put him off sooner. See, Tami, I try to keep the game plan in mind. I want to see our marriage all the way to the end zone. And I organize the game plan around that goal. That's why I came to you right away about Kim" – he had eventually told her the name of the pretty co-ed " - and talked to you about that and asked you to help make sure I wasn't tempted, because I had that goal post in mind. But when it came to Glenn or to Dr. Tate – "

Another eyebrow raise from Dr. Heinz, but again no interruption.

" – you just called it ridiculous. You just - "

" – Hey! I said I'd put up reasonable boundaries between Bill and me! I'm not even attracted to him and still I said – "

"Yeah! After I brought it to your attention because I got so pissed off! But I have to get pissed off and confront you before anything like that even _enters your mind_. Because you aren't thinking about it ahead of time. It's like it's not in your game plan because making sure the marriage gets into the end zone isn't your goal. It's like the marriage is on the sidelines for you!"

Tami was shaking her head again. She was looking at him with something – anger probably – brewing in her eyes, and she kept shaking her head.

"Look, babe," Eric said, not thinking about the fact that he was saying things he had never dared say to her before, and that he was even saying them in front of a stranger, "you've always been my cheerleader. You've always been there for me to inspire me, to lift me up when I got knocked down, to cheer me on. I know a lot of men don't get that in their wives. That gift is not lost on me. It is not unappreciated. But this marriage thing – this ain't a solo sport. It's not like track. And I don't want you just to be _my_ cheerleader - I want you to be a cheerleader for our _marriage_."

Eric ran a hand through his hair and gripped the back of his neck. "To be more proactive about making sure the marriage stays strong," he continued, "that not me, not you – but us – that _we_ get to the end zone. Because this is a team, Tami. It's a _team_. And yes, things can undermine the _team_. Even little things. Little things like sharing lunch with Glenn instead of me, or not asking me ahead of time if I'm okay with you having Dr. Tate over for dinner, or – hell - big things – like just up and telling me you're not going to Austin with me but then _also_ telling me _no_ when I say I'm willing to stay with you in Dillon. Because you had a dream, and I had a dream, and you thought we both had to pursue our dreams. But we aren't running track, Tami. We can't each win as individuals. We can't place separately. If one of us loses, we lose _together_. And sometimes…sometimes I think you think we're running track. Today it's your turn to come in first. Tomorrow it's my turn to come in first. But it doesn't work like that. We can only come in first _together_. We can only win as a _team_! We can't take turns winning!"

Eric stopped suddenly. He had said so much so quickly that he felt like he had to catch his breath. He didn't want to look at Tami. He had said far more than he even realized he had felt, and he didn't want to see how she was going to take it.

So he looked at Dr. Heinz, who nodded and said, "Well, Eric, you put that surprisingly eloquently. You managed to get into words how you've been feeling, and it's probably a lot for Tami to think about. So, why don't you," he looked toward Tami, "take some time to think about this. And Eric can think about what you said earlier, and next week, we can tackle all these subjects a little more deeply. Unravel this a little more. But our time is up for today."

Eric heard Tami murmur, "Okay. Okay then," very weakly. Her tone did not house the anger or defensiveness Eric was sure she must be experiencing. He was surprised by the vulnerability in her voice. Or was it just the pure, calm shock that came before the storm of anger? He didn't know. He couldn't look at her. He saw, because he was studying the brown flecked carpet on the floor, that she reached for her purse. And he knew she stood. He waited until he felt her walk out of the room before he rose to follow her.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"You just gonna keep letting him cry like that?" Matt asked. He had just walked in the door and put his satchel down. He lifted Henry out of the pack n' play and set him loose on the floor. The little man was crawling now. Not fast, but he was crawling, and way too early, in the opinion of both parents. He headed toward one of the boxes stacked against the living room wall. They had begun to pack for their move to New York.

"I was going to get him," Julie shot back from where she sat at the kitchen table, which was located in what might otherwise have been a hallway between the living room and kitchen. At least, Matt thought, she wouldn't miss this condo's peculiar layout when they moved to New York. She had her laptop open and was pounding away at the keys. "He can cry for five or ten minutes without dying. He has to learn to self-entertain."

"Hmm…" Matt said, and approached to give her a kiss. She lowered the screen of the laptop when he bent down so he wouldn't see the words. He hated when she did that, and she always did that. He'd complained about it once, asked her what she was hiding, and she had said, "Nothing, but how would you like it if I stood looking over your shoulder while you sculpted or drew?"

She gave him a quick kiss and then just seemed to wait for him to go away. He hated that too. She was clearly annoyed that he was still lingering. He'd complained about that once too, asked her why she didn't always want to talk to him right away when he came home from work, and she had said, "How would you like it if I came into your studio while you were drawing and expected you to just drop your pencil in the middle of a line – a line you were trying to get just right – and talk to you?"

She had a point. He had to admit she had a point. He wouldn't like it. But couldn't she plan to get her writing done before he got home for work? So that she'd be ready to greet him? He'd asked that too. "What?" she had replied. "Greet you how? Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?" He'd let it drop. But it still annoyed him.

She had tried to explain what it was like, what it was liked to be possessed by this demon that drove you to write…what it was like to be trying to concentrate on some conversation with someone at the bank or the grocery store, only to have another dialogue running through your head, your character's dialogue, the dialogue you'd just begun to think up on the drive to the bank or the grocery store, the dialogue you were desperate to get home and write down before you lost it, before it was gone forever, before opportunity slipped through your fingers. She tried to explain, and, as an artist, he sort of got it. But as a husband…not so much.

"I'm writing," she said now, her voice still irritated. "Can you watch Henry for a bit?"

"Yeah. Sure. He's my kid too. I like to spend time with him." He walked away, looking backwards as he did. She lifted the screen but didn't start typing again until he had turned his gaze away. She pounded away fiercely at the keys while he played with Henry. When he brought the boy to the kitchen table to feed him, she moved away with the laptop to the living room, and kept pounding. Then when Matt and Henry moved back to the living room, she moved back to the kitchen.

Finally, when an hour had passed, and Julie had closed the laptop tight, she did what she always did when this happened – she came to him, and cuddled up close, and said, "Sorry, but I really had to get that out," and kissed his cheek, and asked, "How was your day?"

And Matt did what he always did, which was to tell her, and then ask, "What are we doing about dinner?" He always said "we" to make sure she knew he didn't think it was just her responsibility.

And she said, as she often said, "I forgot to take something out to thaw. Can we order out?"

But today, he didn't say what he usually said, which was, "Sure." Instead, he said, "No, get in that kitchen and cook me something."

Julie drew away from him, dropping his arm, which she had surrounded with her own. Her moth dropped opened and, eventually, she managed to say, "_Excuse me_?" just before she realized he had been joking.

He laughed. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he laughed louder. And she laughed too.

"Matt," she said. "I really am sorry. I know it's a lot to tolerate, this writing thing. But it's part of who I am. I'll cook us dinner tomorrow for a change. Then after we put Henry to bed, I'll go back in the bedroom why you sculpt, and I'll wait for you in nothing but high heels."

He started laughing again.

"Well," she said, laughing along with him, "I'll cook you dinner anyway."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Eric's hands gripped the steering wheel tensely. Their counseling session had been scheduled for the evening, so that it would be after Tami got home from work and after Eric was done with afternoon practice, and the sun was already beginning to go down as they drove. Grace was at home with the babysitter.

Eric's jaw was set so firmly it looked like he might snap off his bottom row of teeth. Why had he said yes to her stupid idea of going to see a marriage counselor? He hadn't meant to say all that. _All_ that. It wasn't as if he was a resentful sort of man, as if he wasn't happy to be married to Tami, as if he didn't appreciate her.

Hell, he hadn't even realized how he'd internalized all that stuff. He knew he'd been feeling tense and not quite connected to Tami and vulnerable to temptation…but he didn't know what the whole long history of it was. Wasn't it just over a week ago he'd been telling Matt how you had to confront issues, how you couldn't keep them pent up, how you had to have the fight, because if you didn't, one day, that sizzling time bomb…And now that he had said _all_ that, said it all at once like that, in one big torrent, he felt like a fool. He'd been like the blind leading the blind back there in New York, presuming to give Matt marriage advice, when he had no idea how much he'd choked down himself.

And now Tami was going to be pissed as hell at him, and maybe she wasn't going to feel quite the same way about him, and what if…what if it made things worse? What if it…what if it made her think a whole lot less of him? Because he had been blathering like a little girl in there, hadn't he? And it's not as if she _really_ needed him for anything. Did she? Sometimes he thought she did, sometimes she made him feel like the only man in the world, but sometimes…sometimes he wondered. If he just up and left tomorrow, would it make that big a difference in her life? She had her career. She had Grace. She had her friends. She had her own good opinion of herself. What _did_ she need him for?

Why had they gone? Why? They could have just gone on not addressing any of that stuff and been just fine. He never would have had to admit to himself these doubts. Because they had been just fine together, hadn't they? Fine enough. More fine than a lot of people.

He could feel his breath growing faster; he couldn't seem to get it under control. It was like his chest was tightening in on him. He bit his lip, he muttered, "We shouldn't have gone. It was a stupid idea."

Tami, who had been staring out the window, thinking he didn't know what thoughts of her own, probably thinking of making him sleep on the couch tonight, maybe even of packing him a bag, turned to him, and put a tender hand on his knee. He leapt and the SUV swerved. He righted it quickly in its lane. He hadn't expected her touch. His breathing slowed a little bit. He felt a sort of instant, partial comfort.

"They say it takes awhile," she said. She sounded tired. "That it's really hard at first, that it dredges up a lot of emotions and old stuff you didn't expect it to, but that if you stick with it, it's worth it."

"Who are they?"

"I was talking to Bill. Dr. Tate. He said counseling was a huge help to him and his wife."

Eric's jaw tightened again. "He's _divorced._"

She slid her hand off his knee. "From his second wife. He meant counseling worked well with his first wife. They had a good marriage, went through a blip just like us, and then came out the other side stronger. A lot stronger. She died, though, eighteen years ago, and he remarried."

"So his first marriage lasted, what?" He was trying to do the math in his head. Even assuming Dr. Tate had married young, "Ten years at most? Woo-hooo. What a record."

"Eleven years. They had counseling after five years and then had a good more six years before she died. But the second marriage – his wife refused to go to counseling – and you see how that worked out."

"Maybe it wasn't the lack of counseling. Maybe it's just that Bill is a lousy husband and father." She didn't respond to this jibe, and his mind was left to wander. "Wait," he said tersely, "You told Bill about our marriage problems?"

Normally he would have just felt the irritation, expressed it, and then repressed it. He wouldn't have analyzed _why_ he felt it. But now, after that outburst in the counselor's office, he realized precisely what his problem was: he didn't think it was protective of the marriage for her to be sharing their marriage difficulties – her vulnerability - with a man who clearly admired her. It wasn't that he thought Tami was currently attracted to Dr. Tate; he just thought she wasn't thinking four, five, six plays ahead, about what might happen if, while they were struggling to improve this team together, she found a sympathetic and encouraging ear in another man who was unsoiled by the daily but necessary grind of practice. It didn't annoy him so much as it worried him, but anger, he was beginning to understand, was how he processed anxiety.

Damn. Why was he doing this to himself? All this stupid thinking.

"I had to get him to cover a meeting for me tonight so we could make this appointment," Tami explained. "I had to give him a reason."

"You couldn't just say female problems?"

"Female problems? Are you serious, Eric? What world do you live in?"

He stared straight ahead at the road. He didn't say anything for a long while. He could feel that fluttering in his chest again, like it was a struggle to breathe. But clearly he was breathing. The pain must have been in his mind. Finally, he asked, "What if this makes things worse, Tami? I know…I know there's stuff we've both buried, but maybe that's what makes us work. And we have worked, haven't we?"

He glanced at her. He couldn't quite tell if she had nodded or shaken her head, it was such a noncommittal motion.

"I mean," he continued, "there were people in Dillon saying we were a good model for marriage. Matt told me he thought we had a great marriage when we were in New York. Everyone thinks we have a great marriage. Look at the Taylors, they think. Look at those two. Look at the way they look at each other. Still want to jump each other's bones after over twenty years."

Tami chuckled. "Is that what they think?"

He smiled despite the heaviness in his heart. "Yeah, that's what they think."

She put her hand back on his leg, this time more suggestively, closer to his thigh. "Well…I _do_ still want to jump your bones."

"Yeah?" he asked, feeling himself relax a little, glancing down at her hand on his thigh and then back at the road. They were passing a rather seedy looking motel on the right side of the road. "Right now? Because that place looks like it rents by the hour."

She laughed and took her hand away.

"I can turn around," he said, as they whizzed through a green light. "We can make it real romantic, I'm sure. You know, I've got some blankets in the back. We could spread them over the bloodstained sheets – "

She was laughing harder now.

" – bring in the air freshner I have in the glove compartment there, maybe use it to get out some of the lingering cigarette stink – "

"Or maybe we could just wait until we're sure Gracie's asleep."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Sure you wouldn't rather sit on the porch and talk?" Sarcasm dripped from his voice as he said, "I'll let you hold the napkin first."

She snorted at the mention of the napkin. She was quiet for awhile and then asked, "You know what? I think I'd rather just…make love. I'm not saying we should ignore all this stuff you said today. We've got to address all that, and I'm not dismissing any of it, Eric. I'm not. I'm gonna think about it."

"You don't think it's ridiculous, what I said in there?"

"No, I don't. I don't agree with all of it, but it was honest. And I'm sorry if in the past I've made you feel like…like I didn't take your feelings seriously. I just…I really had no idea how intensely you felt about some of those things. I guess I thought you were just…ruffled. I had no idea how you _interpreted_ all that stuff. I don't want you to feel like that, babe - like this marriage isn't the most important thing in the world to me. Because it is. You know, that's why I wanted to go to the marriage counselor in the first place. That's why _I_ suggested it. That was _me_ being _proactive_."

"A'right." The word was affirmative, but he wondered if she could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

"Do you like this counselor okay?" she asked.

"He's a'right. How about you? You okay with him?"

"Eric, you probably said more in the last ten minutes of that session about how you really feel than you've said in the last ten years. If he can get you to do that…I'm okay with him."

"That's not true, though. I talk about my feelings. I tell you I love you. I tell you almost every day."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I don't like talking about the stuff…the stuff that upsets me."

"I know."

She put her hand back on his knee again.

"You sure you want to make love tonight?" he asked. "I thought you'd be too mad."

"I am mad. But I'm also sorry. And even more than I'm mad or sorry, I'm scared."

She was scared? **_She_** was scared?

"I'm scared," she continued, "and making love…it might be comforting. You know?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly, taking one hand off the steering wheel and reaching down for her hand, taking it and squeezing it tightly. "I do know." She shifted and he thought she was going to pull her hand away, so he grabbed it tighter. "I know, but just hold on."

She squeezed back. "I wasn't letting go, Eric. I have no intention of letting go."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The love making had been bittersweet, without words, and with perhaps more desperation than passion. But in the aftermath they clung to each other, lying beneath the lightweight, rumpled sheets, the bedspread tossed aside. They lay together so long, in such silence, that Tami would have guessed he had fallen asleep, if it weren't for the fact that his grip on her was so tight. She shifted against his chest, eased her leg into a more comfortable position between his, and he loosened his hold a little bit.

"Eric," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"You know…I did admit it was a mistake. Breaking up our family like that, insisting you go to Austin. I said it was just a stupid idea I had."

He let go of her and put his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. "I really don't think so, Tami. I really don't remember you saying that to me."

She slid out of the bed and threw on her flannel pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt of his. She tossed him a pair of boxers. "Let's have that talk now after all," she said.

"I'm tired, Tami."

"So am I."

She walked out of the bedroom and waited to see if he would follow. He did, and they settled on the couch. They didn't turn on any lights; the moonlight and the streetlight seeped through the blinds, enough that they could make out one another vaguely, without having to see too deeply the expression in each other's eyes.

"I did say that," she said. "I did say it was a stupid idea. But I guess you're right…now that I think of it…maybe I just said it to Glenn."

"To Glenn," he repeated dully. "To Glenn but not to me. Of course you did."

She leaned back against the arm rest and put her feet up on the couch so that she was facing him but not touching him. "I should have told you I was sorry. But I couldn't…I couldn't be the one to make you give up your dream. I couldn't ask you to do that for me. I couldn't – "

"You couldn't admit you were wrong. Not to me, anyway."

"Eric, I was embarrassed. I was mortified! I couldn't ask you to quit your job and come back after I had insisted you take it. I couldn't - "

" - admit you needed me?"

She pursed her lips and looked down.

"You've always been so sure you could do it all on your own, haven't you?" he asked. "Oh, I'm nice company. You don't seem to mind the sex. You like me well enough. And God knows you know I need you to lift me up, so there's that to stick around for. Wouldn't want to be responsible for me falling flat on my face. But you can get by just fine without me, can't you?"

"What?" She stifled her initial impulse to be offended and angered. She studied his face, what she could discern of it in the rays of light that filtered across his eyes and mouth. She saw there the insecurity she had not suspected. She thought about everything he had said in counseling, about those times over the years she had apparently made him feel as though he were less than necessary. She certainly hadn't meant to, but that didn't change the fact that she somehow had. Softly, she said, "Of course I need you, Eric."

He sighed and turned his eyes away from her gaze. "Then why didn't you say so when I offered to stay in Dillon and not go to Austin? Why didn't you say so after Gracie was born, when I told you I really needed you to talk to me, and all you did was sit there in silence on that couch? If you needed me, why did you tell me not to come home that night you took Gracie to the ER? If you needed me, why didn't you say so then or before or after? Why haven't you _ever_ said so?"

"I didn't know you needed me to say it so badly! I didn't know! I've told you I love you, I desire you, I admire you, I believe in you…I've told you a thousand times how highly I think of you! I just didn't know you need to hear _that_."

She felt bad for yelling at him just now, for letting her self-defensiveness rule her response. He had never, in all their years of marriage, been quite this vulnerable with her. But today he'd put his heart out there on the table, left it there for her to do with whatever she wanted, and here she was…why couldn't she find the right words to tell him what he needed to hear? She had always known the right thing to say to him when he was upset about some coaching obstacle, when he doubted his abilities; she had always encouraged and soothed and uplifted him at those times. Why couldn't she manage it now?

"Because I'm proud," she said finally. "Because I'm too damn proud and maybe sometimes I've been afraid to admit just how much I need you."

"Why?"

"Because I thought I had to be strong. I've always felt like I have to be strong. And if I admit how much I need you, then…then I'm admitting how weak I am."

"You're anything but weak, Tami."

She slid closer to him and lay a hand on his leg. "Why did you think I was sobbing every time you went back to Austin, if I didn't need you?" she asked.

"You tried so damn hard not to let me see that."

"Why do you think, that time after I admitted I slapped Julie, why do you think I told you I didn't know what was happening to our family?"

"But you wouldn't say it was because I was gone. You didn't ask me to come home. You just couldn't…you wouldn't..."

"I _did_ need you. Our family was falling apart without you. And you came back, and you stepped up, and you were my anchor, babe. You were my anchor."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"If you needed to hear the words so badly, why didn't you ask?"

"Maybe…maybe that seemed weak to me."

She leaned in and kissed him deeply. When she broke the kiss, she murmured, "I still need you, Eric." He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. "You're still my anchor," she whispered. "You've been my anchor during this whole move, during Julie's unexpected pregnancy, during all this upheaval. I still need you." She looked steadily into his eyes, which seemed to be melting into damp pools in the moonlight, so that he could see her sincerity. "God, I need you." She kissed him again, felt the urgency in his response, the gratitude in it, and, nearly breathless, pulled away. She tucked her head under his chin. "And right now…right now I need you to promise me you're not going anywhere," she whispered.

"Of course I'm not going anywhere," he swore. "I'm here. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

She felt his strong arms wrap more tightly around her. She felt her body mold against his, relax, let go. She let herself feel her own need and accept his. _Hold on_, she thought. _Just keep holding on._


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

When the alarm sounded at 6 AM the following morning, Eric was already gone. He was now holding early morning practices before school. Tami yawned her way into the kitchen, where the coffee still sat warm in the pot, and removed the yellow post-it-note stuck to it. It said simply, "Thank you for last night – Me." She smiled, poured herself a cup of coffee, sipped, and grimaced. It had been sitting in the pot too long. She dumped it down the sink and went to wake up Gracie.

When she got to work that morning, the first order of business was the panel interview of an applicant seeking admission to Braemore. Dr. Tate, who had been among the interviewers, lingered in Tami's office when the interview was over. Tami now slipped behind her desk and began re-examining the applicant's file.

Dr. Tate came and ran a hand across the high backed chair that sat across from her desk. Eventually, without invitation, he sat in it. "How did your counseling session go yesterday?" he asked.

Perhaps Eric had been right. Perhaps she shouldn't have told Bill why she had needed him to cover the meeting for her. But he had asked directly.

"It was good," she answered. "Helpful I think. A little disturbing, but helpful."

"I told you it can be tough at first. But I'm glad you went. Because it's always helpful. Either it's helpful for your marriage, like it was for me and my first wife, or its useful for helping you realize it's time to move on."

Tami closed the file she'd been examining. She wasn't quite sure how to respond to Bill's implication.

Dr. Tate tented his fingers together and let his face morph into a concerned look. "When you say disturbing...what do you mean by that?" he asked.

She pursed her lips. "Look, Bill, I don't really think I should be talking about this with you. This is really between me and my husband."

Dr. Tate smiled slightly. "Of course. Of course. But if you ever do feel you need a friend you can talk to – someone objective, someone who's outside of this whole mess - "

"There's no mess. It's not a mess. More like a tune up."

"Well, you know, when I was over there at dinner, the way he acted…does he act like that a lot? Anytime you talk to a man? Because possessive sorts of men can – "

"No, he doesn't act like that a lot and that was about a lot more than just you being over for dinner. You know, Bill, our marriage is a complex thing and you really can't judge it from that one meeting. Eric is a good husband. We've been married a really long time and he's a good husband. He's faithful and loving – he's a good man. A man with principle and courage and a conscience and a real sense of honor and – "

Dr. Tate held up his hands. "Okay. Okay," he said. "I wasn't criticizing him. I just want you to know…you know…if you do need a friend to talk to."

"Well, I appreciate that, Bill. I do, but – "

Just then her phone buzzed, a welcome relief, and her secretary told her she had a delivery and asked if she could send the man back. A moment later the door opened and a delivery man deposited a vase stocked with a dozen roses on her desk. She signed for it and he left.

"Well, someone admires you," Dr. Tate said with a half smile.

For a moment she felt a sudden spasm of fear that it had been Dr. Tate who had sent her the flowers, and she grabbed the card quickly. They were from Eric. She should have known, of course, but she typically got flowers from Eric only three times a year, on Valentine's, their anniversary, and her birthday – and, oh, yeah, there had been that one time at the six week mark after Gracie had been born. She found herself chuckling at the memory.

"What's so funny? Is there a joke on the card?" Dr. Tate asked.

"No," Tami replied. The card said only, "I love you. I need you. Don't be mad at me. – Eric."

Eric must have really expected a whirlwind response to what he said in the counseling session. She hadn't given him one. And last night they had shared a deep connection, feeling and responding to each other's vulnerability. She wasn't even really mad anymore. She disagreed with some of the things he had said, but there was no anger in her. Did he think she was building it up, twisting the whirlwind up tighter and tighter before she let it loose? Was the counselor right? Was the aggressive Coach Eric Taylor afraid of his wife?

"You're still smiling," Dr. Tate observed. "What's it say?"

What's it say? How was that his business? She told Bill it was time for him to leave, that she needed to review some files. And to her relief, he left without further protest.

About an hour later the phone rang. "Hey, babe," came her husband's deep voice from the other end. She was a little surprised to find how its sound thrilled her. She'd always thought he had a sexy voice, had loved it when he got up close to talk low in her ear, provided he was saying nice things, of course. But she'd also gotten used to it. It wasn't as if every time she picked up the phone and heard him say hello, she'd felt this little tingle. It came as a pleasant surprise.

"Hey," she replied.

"You uh…you get any deliveries today?"

She chuckled softly. "I did, hon. They're beautiful. Thank you. And I'm not mad at you. I have some points of difference with you, which we can talk about later, preferrably in counseling, but I'm not _mad_ at you."

"I thought, what with last night, maybe you weren't, but…I just…"

"Well thanks for the roses. They look real nice in my office. They smell wonderful too."

"Hey, I don't have class tomorrow evening. We got a take home test to work on instead that day, and I think I can get it done between early morning practice and teaching that early afternoon class. So I got us a babysitter and I'm taking you out for dinner."

"You did? You went and arranged the babysitter yourself?"

"Sure did," he drawled, clearly pleased with himself.

"That was sweet of you, hon." She was smiling and looking at the flowers, but then a thought occurred to her. "Wait, who is it? Ms. Swainson isn't available on Wednesdays."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Then, "Sandy Harrington. She's a cheerleader at Pemberton. Senior. She's very responsible."

"And you know this because…? You checked her references?"

"I…uh…we'll be gone for three hours, Tami. I'm trying to do something nice for you here. Can't I at least do this right? Or am I doing this wrong too?"

A week ago, if he had said something like that, she would have been annoyed at his defensiveness, and she would have found a way to express that annoyance. Now instead she said, "I'm sorry, babe. No, you're doing this perfectly. I really appreciate it. I appreciate the flowers, you making the babysitting arrangements so I don't have to, you thinking about us, thinking about time alone together, thinking about taking me to a nice dinner. It's perfect. Thank you."

He was quiet. Was he surprised by her positive response?

"You're welcome," he said finally. He sounded a little touched. "I love you, Tami."

"I love you too. I really do, Eric. I love you."

"I know. I do know. I'm late for class, babe. Bye now."

She said goodbye and returned the phone to the cradle. And then she smiled. Everything was going to be just fine, she thought. Better than fine. They'd continue the sessions for awhile to work through these past and present issues, "untangle the ball" as the counselor had said. She was confident of that. She and Eric were committed to one another for life, and they were going to make it work. One way or another, they were always going to make it work. And now it seemed Coach Eric Taylor was determined to woo her all over again…and she was determined to enjoy it.


	23. Chapter 23

**Epilogue**

"No, Matt, you gotta start at the other end."

"It'll get more tangled that way. We should start here."

"Well let's plug it in first, son."

"Why? We should wait until we've got it untangled."

Matt and Eric bickered over the string of Christmas tree lights while Julie and Tami sat watching them from the living room sofa.

"What are you laughing at?" Matt asked his wife and mother-in-law.

"Women," muttered Eric. "Perfect supervisors. They know how to do it just right, but they won't get in and get their hands dirty."

"And those lights are pretty dirty, too," Julie said. "They've been in that dusty box for a year."

"Well thanks for waiting for us to arrive to decorate the tree," Eric complained.

"Hey, I thought you'd want to be a part of it," Julie said, not at all sarcastically.

"You're right, actually, Julie babe," her father replied.

While the boys worked on the tangled mess that was the Christmas lights, and while Grace kept trying to put ornaments on the tree only to be told, repeatedly, "No, wait until we have the lights on," and while Henry, again amazingly ahead of schedule, pulled himself up on the coffee table, bouncing on his legs and watching them all, Julie motioned with her head for her mother to follow her to the kitchen. It afforded them some privacy, because unlike Julie's old condo or Tami's current house, it did not open up onto the living room.

Julie grabbed the kettle, which had begun whistling while they were in the living room, off the stovetop and poured the water into two green, ceramic mugs while Tami sat down at the table. "You know your dad's just dying to know how you guys afford this place. He thinks Matt must have sold a ton more sculptures."

"He's only sold a couple lately. And one of his etchings. But we cleared a little bit when we sold the Chicago condo, and I'm making a little more cash now too."

"Oh yeah?" Tami asked as Julie set a mug of boiling water in front of her and handed her a coco packet. "Putting in more hours as a virtual assistant?"

"No, something else on top of that." Julie sat down with her own mug and packet. "If I tell you, promise you won't tell Dad."

"Tell your dad what?" Tami ripped open her packet and poured the contents into her mug.

Julie slid a spoon across the table to her mom. "How I'm making this money."

The spoon froze in Tami's hand. "Now…why is that?"

"Well I'm not turning tricks if that's what you think." Julie began stirring her coco rapidly.

"I didn't think that of course, Julie, but the way you said it…it's got to make a mother wonder."

Julie took her spoon out and let it rest on a napkin beside her mug. "Okay, but it's almost as embarrassing."

Tami raised an eyebrow and held onto the sides of the hot mug. Julie wondered if her mom was trying to distract herself from her concerning speculations with the searing heat. "That doesn't sound good," Tami muttered.

"It's nothing immoral, mom. Just embarrassing. I've been writing trashy romance novels. Under a pseudonym. It's totally insipid writing. I just follow this formula for the publishing company. They're really hackneyed. And I just make a thousand per novel. But I can easily pound out at least one a month."

Julie could tell her mother was trying not to laugh, but she apparently couldn't help it. Julie smiled to show her she didn't mind.

"So what's your pseudonym?" her mom asked.

"I'm not telling you that. I wouldn't even tell Matt when he found out."

"When he found out?"

"Yeah, I kind of had to tell him where the extra money was coming from. But I'm working on a _real_ novel too. It's the one I really care about. I've been working on it ever since I first moved in with Matt in Chicago. I've got like 600 pages now, and I'm going to try to shave it down to 400 before I start submitting it."

"Well that's great, hon. Am I going to get a chance to read it?"

"Sure," she said, nodding confidently. "As soon as it's published."

"What's it about? Dad said you would never give him a straight answer. Surely you'll tell your little ol' mom, though?"

"Okay…don't tell Dad…"

"Uh oh."

"No, it's nothing bad, but…it actually really is about a washed up college football player who becomes a football coach. I was only half joking when I told him that. It's about how this coach gets a job coaching this high school football team in this small town in Iowa that no one expects to win anything, and how he turns around the lives of the kids on his team. They're a bunch of misfits. But he gives him that influence they've been lacking."

"Well your dad would love that."

Julie took a sip of her cocoa and then set it down. She shook her head. "No he wouldn't," she said. "They lose in the play offs and never even make it to State."

Her mom laughed.

"How are you and Dad?" Julie knew her change of the subject was abrupt, but she had to know. They looked happy, but she had to know.

"We're doing well, actually." Her mom's smile told Julie that this was more like an understatement than an exaggeration. "Really well. We're going to give the counseling another couple of weeks, but then we think we're ready to wrap it up. We've got the tools we need for future conversations…you know, Julie, I wish someone had encouraged us to do this earlier. I wish there wasn't such a stigma about it."

Julie toyed with the empty cocoa package. "Was it hard to convince Dad to go?"

"Not very."

Julie stared in her cup, wondering if she should broach this subject with her mother. But then Tami beat her to the punch. "Why? You thinking about…you and Matt?"

"No, no, of course not." Julie shook her head. Then she paused. "Well…it's just, lots of churches have premarital counseling. But we never did that because we moved up the wedding and got married so fast and…I was thinking…maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, to go to a marriage class or something, you know?"

"But you're afraid to ask Matt."

"I don't want him to think I think there's a problem, because I don't. We're totally happy. I just…want to stay that way, you know?"

"You want me to talk to him?" came a sudden, deep voice.

Julie started and looked up at her dad in the doorway of the kitchen.

"I'll whip him into that class for you." Eric came up and put a hand on each of Tami's shoulders and began massaging them.

"How long have you been standing there?" Julie asked. She had been studying her cocoa cup too closely to notice him because she had been so intent on avoiding her mother's eyes.

"Long enough."

Julie glared at her father but decided not to find out what he had heard. She pulled her legs up onto the chair and sat cross-legged. "Would you suggest it to him?" she asked. "I mean, without the whip."

Eric nodded. He bent down and kissed Tami on the head. Mrs. Taylor leaned back and let him kiss her lips. Julie usually protested such public displays of affection between her parents, but she didn't this time. Instead she smiled. Whatever life had thrown her parents way, they'd pulled through. They'd always pulled through together. This was her model. And she was blessed to have been given it.

**THE END**

**_Thanks for reading!_ _Your comments are very much appreciated! _**


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